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ecos 


THE  END  OF  AN  ERA 


BY 


JOHN  S.  WISE 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND   COMPANY 

@tf)e  fii$jer?ibe  |9rcj6#,  Cambridge 

1899 


COPYRIGHT,    1S99,     BY   JOHN   S.   WISE. 
ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED 


1ff/J 


PREFACE 

This  book  needs  this  much  of  an  apology.  It  is  to 
a  great  extent  the  autobiography  of  an  insignificant  per- 
son. If  it  were  that  alone,  it  would  have  no  excuse  for 
publication,  and  would  possess  little  interest  for  those  out- 
side the  immediate  home  circle.  But  it  is  not  an  autobio- 
graphy alone.  It  introduces  views  of  Southern  life  and 
feelings  and  civilization,  prior  to  and  during  the  war, 
which  possess  an  unflagging  interest  for  the  American 
people ;  and  it  tells  the  true  story  of  several  striking 
events  which  preceded  our  civil  strife,  and  many  episodes 
of  the  great  war.  Besides  these,  it  gives  accurate  de- 
scriptions not  heretofore  published  of  the  appearance  and 
actions  and  sayings  of  many  distinguished  participants  on 
the  Confederate  side. 

When  I  first  concluded  to  print  the  book,  I  made  an 
honest  effort  to  construct  it  in  the  third  person.  It  was 
a  lamentable  failure,  and  made  it  appear  even  more  egotis- 
tical than  in  its  present  form.  Having  returned  to  the 
narrative  in  the  first  person  singular,  I  found  myself  a 
participant  in  several  scenes  in  which  I  was  not  actually 
present.  'How  to  eliminate  these,  and  at  the  same  time 
preserve  the  continuity  of  the  narrative,  was  a  serious 
problem.  I  solved  it  at  last  by  the  consent  of  my  only 
living  brother  that  he  would  stand  for  me  in  several  epi- 


iv  PREFACE 

sodes,  having  told  me  all  I  know.1  I  will  not  mar  the 
narrative  by  pointing  out  the  places  in  which  my  brother 
is  myself.  This  confession  redeems  the  book  from  being 
classed  either  as  an  autobiography  or  a  romance;  and 
whenever  anybody  shall  say  to  me,  "  Why,  you  were  not 
there?"  I  will  answer,  like  the  Israelite  gentleman, 
"  Yes,  I  know.  Dot  vas  mine  brudder."  The  reader 
gets  the  facts  as  they  were,  and  that  is  all  he  ought  to 
expect. 

I  dedicate  it  to  my  old  Confederate  comrades,  the 
bravest,  simplest,  most  unselfish,  and  affectionate  friends 
I  ever  had. 

J.  S.  W. 

New  York,  September  10,  1899. 

1  Hon.  Richard  A.  Wise,  Williamsburg,  Va. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I.  A  Long  Way  from  Home 1 

II.  The  Kingdom  of  Accawmacke 10 

III.  Our  Folks  in  General  and  in  Particular          .        .  23 

IV.  My  Mother:  First  Lessons  in  Politics     ...  33 
V.   The  Know-nothing  Campaign  and  Life  in  Richmond   .  52 

VI.  Behind  the  Scenes 61 

VII.  My  Brother ^9 

VIII.  Unveiling  of  Washington's  Statue,  and  Removal  of 

Monroe's  Remains,  1859 98 

IX.  The  John  Brown  Raid i13 

X.  How  the  "Slave-Drivers"  lived      .        .        .        .  137 

XI.  The  Calm  before  the  Storm  — The  Cloudburst       .  152 

XII.  The  Roanoke  Island  Tragedy 175 

XIH.   The  Merrimac  and  the  Monitor 191 


XrV.  A  Refugee 


206 


XV.  Among  the  Mountains 219 

XVI.  Presbyterian  Lexington 232 

XVH.  A  New  Phase  of  Military  Life 244 

XVIII.  A  Hunt  and  almost  a  Licking 276 

XIX.  The  Most  Glorious  Day  of  My  Life    .        .        .        .285 

XX.  The  Grub  becomes  a  Butterfly        ....  310 

XXI.  LrFE  at  Petersburg 328 

XXII.  The  Battle  of  the  Crater 346 

XXIII.  The  Confederate  Reserves 372 

XXIV.  The  Beginning  of  the  End 392 

XXV.  The  End  in  Sight 412 

XXVI.  The  End 437 

Index 465 


THE  END  OF  AN  ERA 


CHAPTER   I 

A   LONG   WAT   FROM   HOME 


It  was  the  day  after  Christmas  in  the  year  1846. 

Near  sundown,  two  young  officers  of  the  army  of  the 
United  States  sat  upon  one  of  the  benches  on  the  pro- 
menade of  the  great  reservoir  which  supplies  the  city  of 
Rio  de  Janeiro  with  water. 

Both  were  lieutenants,  —  one  of  engineers,  the  other 
of  artillery.  Any  one  half  acquainted  with  the  United 
States  would  have  recognized  them  as  West  Pointers ;  and 
their  presence  in  this  far-away  spot  was  easily  accounted 
for  by  a  glance  downward  from  the  coign  of  vantage 
where  they  sat,  at  a  fleet  of  United  States  men-of-war  and 
troop  ships  riding  at  anchor  in  the  bay. 

Nowhere  in  all  the  world  is  there  a  scene  more  beauti- 
ful than  that  spread  out  before  them.  Below,  falling 
away  down  the  mountain  side  to  the  silver  sands  of  the 
bay,  were  the  palms  and  gardens,  and  orange  and  olive 
groves,  surrounding  the  residence  of  the  Cateti  suburb. 
To  seaward,  the  southern  boundary  of  the  mile-wide 
entrance  to  the  bay,  loomed  the  bald,  brown  peak  of  the 
Sugar  Loaf  Mountain,  with  the  beautiful  suburb  of  Bota- 
fogo  nestling  near  its  base.  Huge  mountains,  their  dense 
foliage  lit  by  the  sinking  sun,  ran  down  to  the  water's 
edge  upon  the  opposite  or  northern  shore.     Far  beneath 


\ 


2  THE   END   OF  AN  ERA 

them  was  the  Gloria  landing  for  naval  vessels.  To  west- 
ward, sweeping  out  into  the  bay  with  bold  and  graceful 
curves,  and  spread  beneath  them  like  a  map,  was  the  pen- 
insula upon  which  the  city  of  Rio  is  built,  and  beyond 
this,  gleaming  in  the  evening  sunlight,  and  studded  with 
islands  of  intense  verdure,  extended  the  upper  bay  until 
it  was  lost  in  the  distance,  where,  on  the  horizon,  the  blue 
peaks  of  the  Organ  range  closed  in  the  lovely  picture. 

The  ships  bearing  the  commands  to  which  the  young 
gentlemen  were  attached  were  bound  to  California  around 
Cape  Horn.  The  troops  were  to  take  ]3art  in  the  war 
then  flagrant  between  the  United  States  and  Mexico.  A 
short  stop  had  been  made  at  Rio  for  water  and  provisions, 
and  these  two  youngsters  were  among  the  first  to  apply 
for  and  obtain  shore  leave. 

The  dusty  appearance  of  their  dress,  and  other  evidences 
of  fatigue,  showed  that  they  had  not  failed  to  sustain  the 
reputation  of  their  countrymen  as  investigators  of  every- 
thing new  and  strange.  In  fact,  they  had,  in  the  morning, 
exhausted  the  sights  to  be  seen  in  the  city.  After  amusing 
themselves  in  the  shops  of  the  Rua  Direita,  and  replenish- 
ing their  stock  of  Spanish  books  in  the  Rua  do  Ovidor, 
and  wandering  through  several  churches  and  residence 
streets,  they  had  become  very  much  interested  in  the  re- 
markable aqueduct  which  supplies  the  city  of  Rio  with 
water. 

Our  young  soldiers,  in  their  engineering  zeal,  had  fol- 
lowed  the  aqueduct  back  to  its  source  of  supply;  and 
now,  bound  for  the  Gloria  landing,  were  resting,  deeply 
impressed  by  the  great  work,  and  by  the  genius  and  skill 
of  its  builders.  But  both  the  youths,  recalling  the  fact 
that  it  was  the  Christmas  season,  felt,  in  spite  of  all  the 
tropical  novelty  and  strange  beauty  surrounding  them, 
as  evening  closed  in,  a  yearning  for  an  American  home 


A  LONG   WAY   FROM   HOME  3 

and  voice  and  face ;  and  their  conversation  naturally 
enough  fell  into  conjecturing  how  the  Christmas  was  being 
spent  by  their  own  loved  ones  in  the  United  States,  or  in 
bemoaning  the  good  things  they  were  missing. 

While  thus  engaged,  they  saw  two  men  approaching. 
One  was  in  civilian  dress;  the  other  wore  the  uniform 
of  assistant  surgeon  in  the  United  States  navy.  The  new- 
comers were  engaged  in  animated  conversation ;  and, 
although  the  civilian  was  a  man  of  forty,  while  his  com- 
panion was  a  youngster  of  twenty-five,  there  was  little  if 
any  difference  in  the  alertness  of  their  steps. 

The  faces  of  the  young  officers  lit  up  with  pleasure  as, 
upon  the  near  approach  of  the  two  pedestrians,  they  caught 
the  sound  of  genuine  United  States  English.  They  had 
observed  the  American  flag  floating  from  a  residence  in 
the  Cateti,  and  had  no  doubt  that  the  persons  who  were 
now  passing  were  in  some  way  connected  with  the  lega- 
tion. Accordingly,  with  that  freedom  which  fellow  coun- 
trymen feel  in  addressing  each  other  in  foreign  lands,  the 
West  Pointers  arose  at  the  approach  of  the  two  gentle- 
men, and,  catching  the  eye  of  the  elder  of  the  two,  ad- 
vanced, announced  their  rank  and  service,  and  made  some 
inquiry  as  a  groundwork  of  further  conversation.  They 
were  not  mistaken  in  their  surmises.  The  gentleman 
addressed  was  the  Envoy  Extraordinary  and  Minister 
Plenipotentiary  to  the  Empire  of  Brazil  from  the  Republic 
of  the  United  States.  A  title  like  that  was  well  calculated 
to  paralyze  the  familiarity  of  two  young  military  men ; 
and  when  they  realized  that,  unannounced  and  covered 
with  dust,  they  had  of  their  own  motion  ventured  into 
conversation  with  the  bearer  of  such  an  august  title,  their 
first  impulse  was  to  apologize  for  their  temerity  and  to 
withdraw.  Even  from  an  officer  of  no  higher  grade  than 
captain  in  their  own  service,  they  were  accustomed  t    a 


- 


4  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

greeting  strictly  formal,  usually  accompanied  by  the  in- 
quiry, "  Well,  sir  ?  state  your  business ;  "  and,  having 
done  so,  they  were  generally  glad  enough  to  salute  and 
withdraw.  Here  they  were,  without  any  business,  stand- 
ing in  the  presence  of  a  high  official,  with  nothing  more 
to  say,  and  with  no  excuse  to  give  for  what  they  had  said. 
But  before  their  embarrassment  could  grow  more  annoy- 
ing, the  minister  put  them  completely  at  their  ease. 
"  Well  met ! "  he  exclaimed ;  "  we  are  just  returning 
homeward  from  the  city.  Come !  The  more  the  merrier : 
you  shall  dine  with  me.  I  still  have  some  Christmas 
turkey  and  plum  pudding,  and  we  will  drink  the  health 
of  the  good  angel  who  sent  my  countrymen  to  me  at  this 
blessed  season." 

During  the  course  of  their  walk  to  the  American  lega- 
tion, the  young  fellows  had  opportunity  to  observe  their 
newly  found  host  more  carefully.  To  them  he  was  a 
revelation.  His  name  and  position  in  politics  were  not 
unknown  to  them ;  for  although  still  young,  he  had  for 
many  years  been  a  conspicuous  figure  in  national  politics 
in  the  United  States.  The  echoes  of  his  eloquence,  as 
well  as  accounts  of  his  game-cock  courage,  had  penetrated 
even  into  the  isolated  world  of  the  Academy  at  West 
Point.  In  fact,  he  had  been  absent  from  the  United 
States  but  two  or  three  years  upon  this  mission,  which 
had  been  accepted  partly  on  account  of  failing  health, 
and  partly  from  a  desire  to  strike  a  blow  at  the  infamous 
African  slave-trade.  He  had  accomplished  much  towards 
breaking  up  the  slave-trade,  and  derived  great  benefit  to 
his  health. 

Brilliant  at  all  times  in  conversation,  he  was,  on  this 
occasion,  unusually  interesting.  The  sight  of  his  coun- 
try's ships  in  the  harbor,  and  the  news  of  the  struggle 
with  Mexico,  so  excited  and  elated  him  that  he  was  seen 


A  LONG  WAY   FROM   HOME  5 

at  his  best  by  his  visitors.  The  two  boys  studied  him  as 
if  he  had  been  some  great  actor.  Tall  and  thin,  he  was 
nevertheless  exceedingly  active  and  muscular.  His  dress 
consisted  of  simple  black,  with  spotless  linen.  He  wore 
the  open  standing  collar  and  white  scarf  affected  by  the 
gentlemen  of  that  period.  The  only  ornament  upon  his 
person  was  a  large  opal  pin  confining  the  neckerchief. 
His  head  gear,  suited  to  the  climate,  was  one  of  those  ex- 
quisitely wrought  white  Panama  hats  which  is  the  envy  of 
men  living  beyond  the  tropics.  Beneath  this  was  a  head 
exquisitely  moulded,  with  a  noble  brow,  and  large  hazel 
eyes,  the  ever-changing  expression  of  which,  coupled  with 
a  full,  rich  voice,  charmed  and  fascinated  his  guests.  His 
silken  blond  hair  was  thrown  back  and  worn  long,  as  was 
the  custom  of  the  day.  A  nose  too  handsome  to  be  called 
Koman,  yet  too  strong  to  be  designated  as  Grecian ;  a 
mouth  wide  and  mobile,  filled  with  even,  white  teeth ;  and 
a  strong  chin  with  a  decided  dimple,  —  completed  the  re- 
markable face  which  turned  in  ever-changing  expression, 
from  time  to  time,  towards  its  companions,  as  they  strode 
homeward  in  the  twilight. 

Such  was  the  American  minister ;  and,  according  to  the 
mood  in  which  one  found  him,  he  impressed  the  stranger 
as  the  gentlest,  the  tenderest,  the  most  loving,  the  most 
eloquent,  the  most  earnest,  the  most  fearless,  the  most 
impassioned,  or  the  fiercest  man  he  had  ever  met.  No- 
body who  saw  him  ever  forgot  him. 

They  reached  the  legation  just  as  it  was  growing  dark, 
and  as  the  full-orbed  moon  was  rising  from  the  distant 
sea.  Seeking  the  veranda,  and  seating  his  guests  in  the 
wicker  easy-chairs  with  which  it  was  well  supplied,  the 
minister  excused  himself,  and  left  them  for  a  few  minutes 
to  their  own  observations  and  reflections. 

As  the  soft  sea-breeze  came  up  to  them,  laden  with 


6  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

garden  perfumes  ;  as  they  watched  the  golden  highway  of 
the  moon's  reflection  on  the  sea ;  as  they  saw  the  twin- 
kling lights  of  the  ships  in  the  deep  shadows  of  the  bay 
below  them,  —  they  felt  as  if  they  had  indeed  discovered 
an  earthly  paradise  ;  and  when  a  fair  blond  girl  in  filmy 
apparel  glided  through  the  drawing-room  and  joined  them, 
speaking  pure  English,  it  seemed  as  if  their  paradise  was 
being  peopled  by  angels.  Everybody  here  spoke  in  Eng- 
lish. Everything  spoke  of  home.  The  pictures  on  the 
walls,  the  books  on  the  tables,  yes,  the  dishes  at  table, 
were  all  American. 

The  visitors  were  conducted  to  their  apartments  to 
make  necessary  preparations  for  dinner.  Soon  after  their 
return  to  the  drawing-room,  the  minister  reappeared  with 
a  look  somewhat  troubled,  as  he  apologized  for  his  long 
absence  and  the  non-appearance  of  the  lady  of  the  house. 

A  moment  later  the  folding-doors  rolled  back,  and  the 
English  butler  announced  that  dinner  was  served.  Oh, 
what  a  contrast  with  the  ward-room  of  the  man-of-war  in 
which  our  two  lieutenants  had  been  dining  for  a  month  or 
more! 

Dinner  over,  the  company  once  more  sought  the  cool 
veranda,  where  coffee  and  cigars  were  served.  There  they 
were  joined  by  Baron  Lomonizoff,  the  Russian  minister, 
who  had  called  to  be  informed  of  all  the  recent  develop- 
ments in  the  controversy  with  Mexico,  and  who  spoke 
English  perfectly.  Later,  just  as  the  baron  was  bidding 
adieu,  in  fact,  at  what  seemed  to  our  young  friends  to  be  a 
very  late  hour  for  visiting,  the  oddest  imaginable  specimen 
of  Brazilian  humanity  was  introduced  as  Dr.  Ildefonso. 

His  efforts  at  English  were  startling.  They  nearly 
convulsed  our  two  young  friends,  and  reconciled  them  to 
their  own  failures  at  Portuguese. 

As  the  little  doctor  showed  no  signs  of  leaving,  and 


A  LONG  WAY  FROM   HOME  7 

as,  by  one  or  two  indications,  the  young  visitors  began  to 
suspect  it  was  time  for  theni  to  go,  they  reluctantly  took 
their  departure,  thanking  their  host  a  thousand  times  for 
the  pleasure  he  had  given  them,  and  chatting  joyously,  on 
the  route  to  the  ship,  about  the  good  fortune  which  had 
given  them  such  a  Merry  Christmas. 

The  little  Brazilian  doctor  and  the  surgeon  in  the  navy 
had  remained  because  there  was  work  on  hand  for  them. 
I  entered  my  name  on  the  docket  of  humanity  that  night ; 
and,  as  the  lawyers  say,  my  cause  was  continued  until  the 
further  order  of  the  court. 

How  do  I  know  it  ?     I  will  tell  you. 

Forty-five  years  later,  at  a  great  banquet  in  New  York, 
I  was  sitting  beside  an  aged,  grizzled  general  of  the 
armies  of  the  Union. 

Said  the  old  general  cheerily,  "  Did  I  ever  tell  you  of 
my  visit  to  your  father  in  Rio  ?  "  Receiving  a  negative 
response,  he  proceeded  in  his  inimitable  way  to  recount 
every  incident  above  set  forth,  omitting  the  hour  of  his 
own  departure  from  the  legation.  The  memory  of  the 
struggles  of  the  little  Brazilian  doctor  with  the  English 
language  still  amused  him  immensely.  He  was  recalling 
some  absurd  mistake  of  Dr.  Ildefonso,  when  I  looked  up, 
and,  with  a  merry  twinkle  in  my  eye,  said,  "  General,  at 
what  hour  did  you  leave  the  Cateti  that  night  ?  "  "  Oh, 
I  should  say  about  eleven  or  twelve  o'clock,"  said  the 
general.  "  Well,  now,  do  you  know,  my  dear  general, 
I  deeply  regret  you  left  so  early.  I  arrived  myself  that 
night  about  two  hours  after  your  departure,  and  would 
have  been  so  delighted  to  meet  you  under  my  father's 
roof."  This  sally  was  met  by  a  hearty  laugh  from  the 
listening  company,  and  was  followed  by  a  glass  of  wine 
to  the  memory  of  those  olden  days,  since  when  so  many 
things  have  happened. 


8  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

The  young  lieutenant  of  artillery,  and  the  old  general 
above  described,  was  no  other  than  William  Tecumseh 
Sherman,  commander  of  the  armies  of  the  Union.  His 
companion  was  the  officer  who  afterwards  became  famous 
as  General  Halleck.  Neither  of  them  ever  met  again 
their  host  of  that  evening. 

In  later  years,  he  also  became  a  distinguished  general, 
but  on  the  Confederate  side.  He  never  knew  that  Sher- 
man and  Halleck,  the  great  Union  generals,  were  the 
young  officers  he  entertained  at  Rio  the  night  I  was  born  ; 
for  he  died  many  years  before  the  general  revealed  his 
identity  as  above  related. 

Forty  years  after  this  meeting,  when  I  was  in  Congress, 
I  received  a  letter  from  a  dear  old  retired  chaplain  of  the 
navy  living  in  Boston,  Rev.  Mr.  Lambert,  asking  my 
assistance  in  some  public  matter,  and  concluding  with  the 
remark  that  this  demand  of  a  stranger  sprung  from  the 
fact  that  the  writer  had  held  me  in  his  arms  and  baptized 
me  at  the  American  legation  in  Rio,  April  14,  1847. 

In  the  spring  of  1847,  my  father  asked  the  President 
for  a  recall ;  and,  his  petition  being  granted,  the  United 
States  frigate  Columbia  was  placed  at  his  disposal  for  the 
return  to  America. 

I  was  a  tried  seaman  when,  for  the  first  time,  I  set 
foot  upon  the  soil  of  my  country,  and  took  up  my  resi- 
dence where  my  people  had  lived  for  over  two  hundred 
years.  I  was  not  born  on  the  soil  of  the  United  States, 
but  nevertheless  in  the  United  States ;  for  the  place 
where  I  was  born  was  the  home  of  a  United  States  min- 
ister, and  under  the  protection  of  the  United  States  flag, 
and  was  in  law  as  much  the  soil  of  the  United  States  as 
any  within  its  boundaries.  Descended  from  a  number  of 
people  who  helped  to  form  the  Union,  born  under  the 


A  LONG  WAY  FROM   HOME  9 

glorious  stars  and  stripes,  rocked  in  the  cradle  of  an 
American  man-of-war,  and  taught  to  love  the  Union  next 
to  my  Maker,  little  did  I  dream  of  the  things,  utterly 
inconsistent  with  such  ideas,  which  were  to  happen  to 
me  and  mine  within  the  first  eighteen  years  of  my 
existence. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   KINGDOM   OF   ACCAWMACKE 

Our  voyage  terminated  in  the  kingdom  of  Accaw- 
macke,  the  abiding-place  of  my  ancestors  for  two  and  a 
half  centuries.  Although  within  eight  hours  of  New 
York  and  six  hours  from  Philadelphia  by  rail,  the  region 
and  its  people  are  as  unlike  those  of  these  crowded  centres 
of  humanity  as  if  they  were  a  thousand  miles  away. 

John  Smith  tells  us,  in  his  memorable  narrative  of  his 
earliest  American  explorations,  that  when  Captain  Nelson 
sailed  in  June,  1607,  for  England,  in  the  good  ship 
Phoenix,  he,  John,  in  his  own  barge,  accompanied  him 
to  the  Virginia  capes  ;  and  there,  after  delivering  his 
writings  for  the  company,  he  parted  with  him  near  the 
southernmost  cape,  which  he  named  Cape  Henry.  Sail- 
ing northward,  Captain  Smith  first  visited  the  seaward 
island,  which  he  named  Smith's  Island,  after  himself.  It 
is  still  called  Smith's  Island,  and  is  owned  by  the  Lee 
family.  Then  he  returned  to  the  northernmost  cape,  at 
the  entrance  to  the  Chesapeake  Bay,  and  named  it  Cape 
Charles,  in  honor  of  the  unfortunate  prince  afterwards 
known  as  Charles  I.  Upon  the  point  of  this  cape  Smith 
encountered  an  Indian  chief,  whom  he  describes  as  "  the 
most  comely,  proper,  civil  salvage"  he  had  yet  met.  The 
name  of  this  chief  was  Kictopeke.  He  was  called  "  The 
Laughing  King  of  Accomack,"  and  Accomack  means,  in 
the  Indian  tongue,  "  The  Land  Beyond  the  Water."  He 
bore  in  his  hand  a  long  spear  or  harpoon,  with  a  sharp- 


THE   KINGDOM   OF   ACCAWMACKE  11 

ened  fish-bone  or  shell  upon  its  point ;  and  he  it  was  who 
taught  John  Smith  and  his  companions  to  spear  the 
sheepshead  and  other  fish  in  the  shallow  waters  hard  by. 
John  Smith  and  The  Laughing  King  have  been  buried 
for  well-nigh  three  centuries,  but  the  people  about  Cape 
Charles  still  spear  sheepshead  on  the  shoals  in  the  same 
old  way. 

Smith  and  his  companions  cruised  along  the  western 
shore  of  this  Peninsula  of  Accawmacke,  which  is  the  east- 
ern shore  of  the  Chesapeake  Bay,  until  they  reached  what 
is  now  called  Pocomoke  River,  the  present  boundary  be- 
tween Virginia  and  Maryland.  The  distance  is  probably 
eighty  miles.  The  reason  assigned  for  the  long  cruise 
was  that  they  were  searching  for  fresh  water.  To  those 
who  know  the  abundant  springs  of  the  Peninsula,  this 
statement  is  surprising.  Overtaken  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Pocomoke  by  one  of  those  summer  thunder-storms 
which  are  so  prevalent  in  that  region,  they  were  driven 
across  the  bay  to  the  western  shore,  and  thence  they 
cruised  down  the  Chesapeake  until  they  turned  into  what 
is  now  called  Hampton  Roads.  Passing  the  low  sand- 
spit  where  the  ramparts  of  Fortress  Monroe  now  frown 
and  the  gay  summer  resorts  are  built,  they  stopped  at 
the  Indian  village  Kickotan,  located  upon  the  present  site 
of  Hampton.  Obtaining  there  a  good  supply  of  food 
from  the  Indians,  they  returned  to  the  Jamestown  settle- 
ment, about  forty  miles  up  the  river,  then  called  Pow- 
hatan, now  known  as  the  James.  In  this  as  in  all  things, 
the  Englishman  appropriated  what  belonged  to  the  In- 
dian, and  King  James  supplanted  King  Powhatan. 

It  was  on  this  return  voyage  that  Smith,  while  prac- 
ticing the  art  acquired  from  the  King  of  Accawmacke, 
impaled  a  fish  upon  his  sword,  in  the  shallow  waters  about 
the  mouth  of  the  Rappahannock  River.     Unaware  of  the 


12  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

dangerous  character  of  his  captive,  he  received  in  his  wrist 
a  very  painful  wound  from  the  spike-like  fin  upon  the 
tail  of  the  fish.  This  wound  caused  such  soreness  and 
such  swelling  that  he  thought  he  was  like  to  die,  and  his 
whole  party  went  ashore  and  laid  Smith  under  a  tree, 
where  he  made  his  will.  "  But,"  says  he,  "  by  night  time 
the  swelling  and  soreness  had  so  abated  that  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  eating  that  fish  for  supper."  The  next  morn- 
ing the  journey  was  resumed,  and  the  place,  in  remem- 
brance of  the  incident,  was  named  Stingaree  Point.  To 
this  day,  that  point  at  the  mouth  of  the  Rappahannock 
is  called  Stingaree  Point ;  and  that  fish  is  still  called 
Stingaree  by  the  people  along  the  Chesapeake  Bay. 

After  this  famous  cruise,  John  Smith,  who  was  as  ac- 
tive and  restless  as  a  box  of  monkeys,  made  his  map  of 
Virginia,  which  is  still  extant,  —  and  a  pretty  good  map 
it  is,  showing  his  capes  and  his  islands,  and  his  points  and 
his  rivers,  and  what  not,  —  in  which  map  the  Kingdom 
of  Accawmacke  bears  a  most  conspicuous  part. 

On  that  historic  document,  old  John  at  certain  points 
printed  little  pictures  of  deer,  to  show  where  they  most 
abounded  ;  and  at  other  points  he  designated  where  the 
wild  turkeys  were  most  plentiful.  The  author  of  this 
humble  narrative  has,  in  his  day,  hunted  every  variety  of 
game  which  abounds  at  the  present  time  in  Old  Virginia ; 
and  just  where  the  deer  and  turkeys  were  most  abundant 
in  1608,  according  to  John  Smith's  map,  there  are  they 
most  abundant  now.  In  the  counties  of  Surry  and  Sus- 
sex, upon  the  south  side  of  the  James,  run,  doubtless,  the 
descendants  of  those  very  deer  whose  pictures  adorn  the 
map  of  John  Smith,  published  three  centuries  ago  ;  and 
within  the  past  twelve  months  the  writer  has  followed 
the  great-great-great-grandchildren  of  the  identical  tur- 
keys, no  doubt,  from  whose  flocks  were  captured,  in  1616, 


THE   KINGDOM   OF  ACCAWMACKE  13 

the  twenty  birds  sent  by  King  Powhatan  to  his  brother 
the  King  of  England. 

But  to  return  to  our  Kingdom  of  Accawmacke. 

After  the  Jamestown  colonists  had  tired  of  poor  old 
John  Smith,  after  he  had  blown  himself  up  with  his  own 
powder  while  smoking  in  his  boat,  upon  one  of  his  return 
trips  to  Jamestown  from  the  present  site  of  Richmond ; 
after  he  had  returned  to  England,  broken  in  health  and 
spirits,  —  the  colonists  who  remained  found,  among  their 
other  miseries  and  tribulations,  that  they  were  sadly  in 
need  of  salt. 

Bearing  in  mind  stories  brought  back  from  the  coast 
by  Smith,  Sir  Thomas  Dale,  governor,  in  the  year  1612 
detailed  a  party  from  the  Jamestown  settlement  to  go  to 
the  Kingdom  of  Accawmacke  and  boil  salt  for  the  settlers 
at  Jamestown. 

We  may  well  imagine  that  such  a  task  was  far  from 
grateful  to  those  to  whom  it  was  allotted.  It  was  looked 
forward  to  by  them,  no  doubt,  as  the  equivalent  of  soli- 
tary confinement  in  a  dangerous  locality.  At  Jamestown 
the  settlers  were  located  upon  an  island.  This  fact  and 
their  numbers  gave  them  comparative  security  from  the 
savages.  In  Accawmacke  the  party  assigned  to  salt- 
boiling  was  placed  upon  the  same  land  as  the  Indians ; 
and  its  numbers  were  so  small,  and  the  position  so  iso- 
lated from  the  chief  settlement  by  the  Chesapeake  Bay 
between  them,  that  their  situation  would  have  been  most 
perilous  in  case  of  attack.  It  was  therefore,  doubtless, 
in  the  spirit  of  satire  that  the  party  named  the  place  at 
which  they  first  located  upon  the  eastern  shore,  Dale's  Gift. 

Thus  came  about  the  first  settlement  of  the  white  man 
upon  the  eastern  shore  peninsula  of  Virginia ;  and,  recog- 
nizing its  separation  from  the  other  settlements,  the  kings 
of  England  for  many  years  addressed  all  their  decrees  to 


14  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

the  Virginia  colonists  to  their  "  faithful  subjects  in  ye 
Colonie  of  Virginia  and  ye  Kingdom  of  Accawmacke." 

Like  many  another  venture  undertaken  reluctantly  and 
in  ignorance,  this  settlement  upon  the  eastern  shore 
proved  to  be  anything  but  an  irksome  and  dangerous 
transfer.  The  party  at  Dale's  Gift  found  the  Accaw- 
macke Indians  totally  unlike  the  warlike  and  treacherous 
tribes  across  the  bay ;  and  from  that  time  forth  there 
never  was,  not  even  at  the  time  of  the  general  outbreak 
of  the  savages  in  1629,  any  serious  trouble  between  the 
whites  and  the  Indians  of  the  eastern  shore.  The  climate 
also  was  much  more  salubrious  than  that  of  the  swampy 
region  where  the  brackish  waters  at  Jamestown  bred 
malaria.  As  for  sustenance,  they  found  the  place  an 
earthly  paradise.  In  the  light  and  sandy  soil  corn,  vege- 
tables, and  many  varieties  of  fruit  grew  with  little  care  of 
cultivation  and  in  great  abundance.  Fish  and  shell-fish 
of  every  kind  abounded  in  the  ocean,  bay,  and  inlets. 
Wild  fowls  of  many  sorts,  from  the  lordly  wild  goose  to 
the  tiny  teal,  swarmed  in  the  marshes  and  along  the  coast. 
Game  in  gueat  abundance,  furred  and  feathered,  could  be 
had  for  the  shooting  of  it  upon  the  land ;  the  fig  and  the 
pomegranate  grew  in  the  open  air.  And  the  influence  of 
the  Gulf  Stream,  which  in  passing  these  capes  approaches 
to  within  thirty  miles  of  the  coast  and  then  turns  abruptly 
eastward,  made,  as  it  still  makes,  residence  upon  the  east- 
ern shore  of  Virginia  most  charming  and  delightful.  The 
eastern  shore  men  were  the  epicures  of  the  colony.  A 
hundred  years  before  New  York  knew  the  terrapin,  it  was 
the  daily  food  in  Accawmacke. 

We  may  be  sure  that  the  less  fortunate  settlers  at 
Jamestown,  Smithfield,  Henricopolis,  Flower  de  Hundred, 
and  the  Falls  of  the  James  were  not  long  in  finding  out 
the  delights  of  this,  at  first,  despised  settlement  in  Accaw- 


THE   KINGDOM   OF  ACCAWMACKE  15 

macke.  History  tells  us  that  when,  twenty  years  later, 
the  colony  of  Virginia  was  divided  into  eight  colonies, 
"  to  be  governed  as  are  the  shires  in  England,"  the  Ac- 
cawmacke  settlement  was  of  sufficient  importance  to  con- 
stitute of  itself  one  of  these  eight  counties  ;  and  in  1643, 
when  the  whole  colony  had  a  population  of  but  fifteen 
thousand,  one  thousand  of  these  were  upon  the  eastern 
shore.  When  Captain  Edmund  Scarburgh,  presiding  jus- 
tice, opened  the  first  County  Court  of  Accawmacke  at 
Eastville,  the  county  seat,  in  the  autumn  of  1634,  The 
Laughing  King  of  Accawmacke  had  no  doubt  ceased  to 
laugh ;  for  he,  like  many  another  savage  chief  before  and 
after  him,  had  by  this  time  felt  the  fangs  of  the  British 
bull-dog  sink  deep  into  the  vitals  of  his  kingdom,  and  be- 
came sensible  of  the  fact  that  it  was  a  grip  which,  once 
fastened  upon  its  prey,  never  relaxed  its  hold. 

Rare  old  records  are  those  of  Captain  Edmund  Scar- 
burgh and  his  successors,  and  very  curious  reading  do 
they  furnish.  You  may  see  them,  reader,  if,  instead  of 
flashing  and  dashing  over  every  other  country  in  search 
of  novelty,  you  will  seek  the  things  which  are  interesting 
in  your  native  land,  within  a  stone's  throw  of  your  door. 
There  they  are,  preserved  to  this  day,  in  the  little  brick 
court  house,  and  are  continuous  from  then  until  now, 
without  a  break,  preserving  the  history  of  their  section 
intact  through  a  period  of  nearly  three  centuries. 
;  The  Peninsula  is  no  longer  a  single  county.  About 
1643,  ambitious  Colonel  Obedience  Robins,  from  North- 
amptonshire, England,  succeeded  in  changing  the  name 
of  the  Peninsula  to  Northampton.  It  was  not  until  1662, 
when  the  eastern  shore  of  Virginia  was  divided  into  two 
counties,  that  the  upper  portion  resumed  the  old  title  of 
Accawmacke,  which  it  retains  to  this  day.  The  lower  part 
of  the  original  Accawmacke  is  still  called  Northampton. 


16  THE   END   OF   AN  ERA 

Nowhere  is  the  type  of  the  original  settler  in  Virginia 
so  well  preserved,  or  are  to  be  found  the  antique  customs, 
manners,  and  ways  of  the  Englishman  of  the  seventeenth 
century  in  America  so  little  altered,  as  in  the  Kingdom 
of  Accawmacke.  No  considerable  influx  of  population 
from  anywhere  else  has  ever  gone  to  the  eastern  shore 
of  Virginia  since  the  year  1700.  The  names  of  the  very 
earliest  settlers  are  still  there.  Everybody  on  the  Pen- 
insula knows  everybody  else.  Everybody  there  is  kin  to 
everybody  else.  Nobody  is  so  poor  that  he  is  wretched  ; 
nobody  is  so  rich  that  he  is  proud.  The  majority  of  the 
upper  class  are  stanch  Episcopalians,  just  as  their  fathers 
were  Church  of  England  men  ;  and  the  remainder  of  the 
population  are  for  the  most  part  Methodists,  Baptists, 
and  Presbyterians. 

The  vices  of  the  community,  as  well  as  the  virtues,  are 
equally  well-recognized  inheritances  from  their  progeni- 
tors. Fighting  and  drunkenness  are  by  no  means  absent, 
but  theft  is  rare  among  the  whites.  The  kinship  and 
sociability  of  the  population  are  such  that  the  fondness  of 
the  Englishman  for  sports  of  all  kinds  is  freely  indulged. 
No  neighborhood  is  without  its  race-boat ;  no  court  day 
without  its  sporting  event  of  some  kind ;  and  no  tavern 
without  its  backgammon  board,  quoits,  and,  in  old  times, 
its  fives-court.  The  poorhouse  has  fallen  into  decay. 
When  a  man  dies,  his  kin  are  sufficiently  numerous  to 
care  for  his  family  ;  and  while  he  lives,  there  is  no  excuse 
for  pauperism  in  a  land  where  earning  a  living  is  so  easy 
a  matter. 

The  citizen  of  Accawmacke  may  begin  life  with  no 
other  capital  than  a  cotton  string,  a  rusty  nail,  and  a 
broken  clam,  and  end  it  leaving  a  considerable  landed 
estate.  With  his  string  for  a  line,  his  nail  for  a  sinker, 
and  his  clam  for  bait,  he  can  catch  enough  crabs  to  eat, 


THE   KINGDOM   OF  ACCAWMACKE  17 

and  sell  enough  besides  to  enable  him  to  buy  himself 
hooks  and  lines.  With  his  hooks  and  lines  he  can  catch 
and  sell  enough  fish  to  buy  himself  a  boat  and  oyster 
tongs.  With  his  boat,  fishing-lines,  and  oyster  tongs  he 
can,  in  a  short  while,  catch  and  sell  enough  fish  and  oysters 
to  enable  him  to  build  a  sloop.  With  his  sloop  he  can 
trade  to  Norfolk,  Baltimore,  Philadelphia,  and  New  York, 
sell  fish,  oysters,  and  terrapin,  and  carry  fruit  and  vege- 
tables, until  he  has  accumulated  enough  to  buy  his  own 
little  patch  of  ground,  and  build  his  house  upon  it. 
Then,  from  the  proceeds  of  his  fruit,  berries,  and  every 
variety  of  early  vegetable,  for  which  he  will  find  excellent 
markets,  he  is  sure  of  a  comfortable  living  with  easy 
labor ;  and  he  will  be  happier  in  his  simple  home  than 
many  who  are  far  more  pretentious,  and  whose  incomes 
are  far  greater. 

Such  has  been  for  three  centuries,  and  still  is,  the  place 
and  people  among  whom  my  lot  was  cast  when  I  arrived 
from  Brazil,  —  descendants  of  the  families  of  Scarburgh, 
Littleton,  Yeardley,  Bowman,  Wise,  West,  Custis,  Smith, 
Ward,  Blackstone,  Joynes,  Kennard,  Evans,  Robins,  Up- 
shur, Fitchett,  Simpkins,  Nottingham,  Goffigan,  Pitts, 
Poulson,  Bowdoin,  Bagwell,  Gillett,  Parker,  Parramore, 
Leatherbury,  Cropper,  Browne,  and  the  rest  of  them,  who 
were  there  when  Charles  I.  was  king,  and  who  gave  the 
name  of  Old  Dominion  to  Virginia  because  they  refused 
to  swear  allegiance  to  the  Pretender  Cromwell,  and  made 
the  colony  the  asylum  of  the  fugitive  officers  of  their 
lamented  sovereign. 

Poor  enough  pay  they  got  for  their  loyalty  ;  for,  when 
Prince  Charlie  came  to  his  own,  although  Sir  Charles 
Scarburgh,  son  of  old  Captain  Edmund  of  blessed  mem- 
ory, was  Court  Surgeon,  and  although  Colonel  Edmund 
Scarburgh,  his  brother,  was  made  Surveyor-General  in 


18  THE  END   OF  AN  ERA 

Virginia,  in  recognition  of  his  fidelity,  the  reckless  sov- 
ereign gave  away  the  devoted  Kingdom  of  Accawmacke 
to  his  favorites,  Arlington  and  Culpeper.  To  this  day, 
one  of  the  loveliest  places  upon  the  Peninsula,  on  Old 
Plantation  Creek,  bears  the  name  of  Arlington,  bestowed 
upon  it  by  John  Custis,  in  honor  of  one  of  the  proprie- 
tary lords  of  the  eastern  shore. 

A  famous  local  celebrity  in  his  day  was  this  old  John 
Custis,  — -  feasting  and  junketing  at  lordly  Arlington. 
When,  in  1649,  Colonel  Norwood,  seeking  asylum  in 
Virginia  after  King  Charles's  defeat,  was  shipwrecked 
upon  the  coast  of  the  eastern  shore,  he  first  secured  abun- 
dant clothing  from  Stephen  Charlton,  a  minister  of  the 
Church  of  England,  and  his  sufferings  were  atoned  for, 
he  says,  by  finding  John  Custis  at  Arlington.  He  tells 
us  how  he  had  known  him  as  a  tavern-keeper  in  Rotter- 
dam, and  of  the  high  living  he  had  with  Custis  in  his  new 
home  until  he  put  him  across  the  bay  to  Colonel  Worm- 
ley's,  more  dead  than  alive  from  hospitality. 

From  the  point  of  Cape  Charles  to  the  Maryland  bound- 
ary, the  coast  of  the  Peninsula  on  sea  side  and  bay  side 
is  indented  with  inlets,  which  are  called  *'  creeks  "  in  this 
section.  On  the  bay  side,  going  northward  from  the  cape 
where  the  oldest  settlements  were  made,  the  names  of 
these  creeks  are  English,  such  as  Old  Plantation,  Cherry- 
stone, and  Hungers.  Higher  up  the  bay  side,  the  names 
given  by  the  Indians  before  the  white  settlements  seem  to 
have  been  retained ;  for  we  have  successively  Occahan- 
nock,  Nandua,  Pungoteague,  Onancock,  Chesconessex,  An- 
namessex,  and  Pocomoke  as  the  names  of  the  beautiful 
and  bold  inlets  on  the  bay  side.  On  the  sea  side,  they 
rejoice  in  such  titles  as  Assawamman,  Chincoteague,  and 
the  like.  These  numerous  inlets,  many  of  which  are  navi- 
gable for  vessels  of  considerable  size,  are  but  a  few  miles 


THE   KINGDOM   OF  ACCAWMACKE  19 

apart,  and  divide  the  Peninsula  into  many  transverse 
"  necks."  Thus  it  often  happens  that  neighbors  living 
on  opposite  sides  of  these  creeks,  within  hailing  distance 
of  each  other,  find  it  necessary,  in  order  to  visit  each  other 
by  land,  to  travel  miles  around  the  head  of  the  creek  divid- 
ing them.  Small  boats  are,  therefore,  as  much  in  use  as 
means  of  intercourse  between  neighbors,  and  for  visiting 
the  post-offices  and  little  towns  at  the  wharves,  as  are 
horses  and  vehicles  ;  and  an  eastern  shore  man  is  as  much 
at  home  in  a  boat  as  upon  the  land.  The  public  roads  of 
the  counties  are  called  Bay  Side  and  Sea  Side  roads,  and 
their  general  course  is  up  and  down  the  Peninsula,  just 
inside  of  the  heads  of  the  creeks.  The  only  transverse 
public  roads  are  those  to  the  wharves,  and  an  occasional 
cross  road  from  the  Bay  Side  to  the  Sea  Side  road. 

It  by  no  means  follows,  from  the  general  use  of  boats, 
that  the  travel  by  land  is  diminished  ;  for  in  no  place  is  the 
proportion  of  wheeled  vehicles  to  population  greater  than 
upon  the  eastern  shore.  Poor,  indeed,  is  the  citizen  who 
cannot  own,  or  cannot  occasionally  borrow,  an  animal  and 
a  vehicle  of  some  kind.  Strangers,  visiting  that  section 
for  the  first  time,  get  the  impression  that  at  least  half  the 
population  is  continually  driving  back  and  forth  upon  the 
highways  ;  and  the  number  and  variety  of  animals  and 
vehicles  collected  at  the  county  seat  on  court  day  is  some- 
thing truly  astonishing.  The  speed  at  which  the  driving 
is  done  is  likewise  a  matter  of  comment  and  observation 
by  many  visitors  to  the  eastern  shore. 

People  from  the  Blue  Grass  regions,  where  size  and 
bone  and  symmetry  count  for  so  much  in  horseflesh,  are  at 
first  disposed  to  look  contemptuously  upon  the  Accomack 
type  of  horse ;  and,  indeed,  it  must  be  confessed  that  he 
is  not  the  highest  expression  of  physical  beauty.  But 
never  was  the  Scripture  saying,  that  "  the  back  is  fitted 


20  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

to  its  burden,"  better  exemplified  than  in  the  tough  and 
wiry  little  animal  which  you  will  sit  behind,  if  you  ever 
make  a  visit  to  this  far-away  kingdom.  Small  in  stature, 
inclined  even  to  those  homely  features  known  as  ewe  neck 
and  cat  ham,  often  higher  behind  than  in  front,  and  with 
great  length  of  stifle,  he  is  not,  I  admit,  imposing  to  look 
upon.  We  must  carefully  scan  the  cunning  little  fellow 
before  we  condemn  him.  Note,  if  you  please,  in  the  first 
place,  that  the  close,  shiny  coat  bespeaks  a  strong  infusion 
of  the  thoroughbred ;  observe  the  large,  gazelle-like  eyes 
beaming  beneath  the  foretop,  which  is  fluffy  and  shaggy 
from  the  constant  influence  of  salt  sea  air;  watch  the 
nervous  playing  of  the  pointed  ear,  and  see  how  the 
broad  forehead  tapers  away  to  the  muzzle,  with  its  wide 
and  flexible  nostrils  ;  observe  the  clean,  straight  legs  and 
flat  knees  before,  and  bent  stifles,  well  muscled,  behind ; 
run  your  hand  over  those  pasterns,  long,  limber,  and 
without  a  windgall ;  and  do  not  overlook  the  cup-like, 
often  unshod,  hoofs.  What  say  you  to  those  sloping 
shoulders,  that  deep  chest,  and  those  well-rounded  ribs, 
close  coupled  to  the  heavy  hips  ?  When  you  have  fin- 
ished, you  will  not  ridicule  a  moving  machine  like  that,  if 
you  know  good  horseflesh  when  you  see  it.  You  may  call 
him  pony  if  you  like.  Many  of  them  do,  indeed,  possess 
a  cross  derived  from  the  wild  pony  of  Chincoteague 
Island.  Now,  I  see  you  turn  to  look  at  the  light  convey- 
ance, with  its  almost  fragile  harness,  and  know  you  are 
wondering  whether  such  an  outfit,  drawn  by  such  a  horse, 
will  take  you  to  your  destination.  One  drive  will  dissi- 
pate every  doubt.  You  are  starting  for  a  journey  in  a 
country  where  there  is  not  a  hill  twelve  feet  high  within 
fifty  miles,  over  light,  well-packed  sand  roads,  on  which, 
in  many  places,  you  could  hear  an  egg-shell  crush  beneath 
the  wheel. 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  ACCAWMACKE  21 

Come,  mount  with  me.  Never  fear  that  our  vehicle 
and  harness  are  frail.  They  are  light,  but  not  fragile.  In 
the  matter  of  our  driving  we  are  exquisites,  and  we  buy 
the  toughest  and  the  best.  Never  fear  that  we  shall  be 
overturned,  or  that  we  shall  hurt  the  horse.  Hurt  him  ? 
I  love  him  as  the  apple  of  my  eye ;  and  he  knows  me  as 
the  Arab  steed  knows  his  rider.  See  how  the  little  rascal 
snuffs  for  a  caress,  as  I  loosen  him  from  the  fence  where 
he  and  a  long  line  of  his  companions  are  made  fast.  Now 
we  have  backed  him  out  into  the  roadway.  Gentle  as  a 
lamb,  quick  as  a  kitten,  see  the  little  bundle  of  nerves 
start  the  instant  the  reins  are  gathered,  and  how,  with 
that  squat  between  the  shafts,  and  spraddle,  and  over- 
reach in  the  hind  legs,  known  to  every  horseman  as  the 
surest  sign  of  going,  he  is  settled  to  his  work,  and  spin- 
ning us  along  at  a  slashing  gait.  Before  long,  twenty 
miles  lie  behind  us,  and  when  we  pull  up  at  Belle  Haven 
or  Horn  Town,  not  a  sign  of  weariness  or  punishment 
does  the  little  beggar  show.  All  that  he  asks  —  and  he 
asks  that  in  a  way  that  no  one  can  mistake  his  wish  —  is 
that  we  loosen  his  check-rein  and  let  him  stretch  that 
bony  neck,  and  give  a  long,  deep  heave,  before  he  takes 
thirty  swallows  from  the  roadside  water-trough.  Then  he 
rubs  his  neck  against  my  sleeve,  and  his  unclouded  eye 
says,  "  Come,  I  am  ready.     Let  us  go  again." 

Let  me  tell  you,  also,  that  the  horse  is  not  the  only 
thing  which  you  will  find  better  than  it  looks  in  the  King- 
dom of  Accawmacke.  The  pretty  little  white-painted, 
red-roofed  houses  are  better  than  they  look,  as  you  will 
learn  when  you  enter  their  hospitable  portals,  and  find 
them  the  abodes  of  refinement  and  virtue  and  hospitality. 
The  quaint,  flat  farms  are  better  than  they  look,  as  you 
will  learn  when  you  see  the  bountiful  crops  of  fruit  and 
high-priced  early  vegetables  and  berries  which  they  pro- 


22  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

duce.  The  sea  side  and  the  bay  side  are  even  better 
than  they  look,  as  you  will  know  when  you  learn  the 
wealth  of  fish  and  shell-fish  and  sea  food  and  game  of 
which  they  are  the  storehouses.  The  people  themselves 
are  better  than  they  look ;  for,  beneath  their  unassuming 
and  oftentimes  provincial  appearance,  they  possess  great 
shrewdness,  great  powers  of  observation,  strong  char- 
acter, decided  opinions,  refinement,  and  considerable  edu- 
cation ;  and,  without  one  tinge  of  false  pride,  they  are  of 
a  lineage  as  old  and  as  honorable  as  any  of  which  Amer- 
ica can  boast. 

Two  things,  also,  you  will  find  in  this  locality  which 
can  be  no  better  than  they  look.  One  is  the  daybreak 
and  sunrise  from  the  sea,  and  the  other  is  the  exquisite 
sunset  which  lights  land  and  ocean  as  the  orb  of  day  sinks 
out  of  sight  to  the  west  beneath  the  waves  of  the  Chesa- 
peake. Not  sunny  Italy,  with  all  her  boasted  wealth  of 
color,  can  surpass  the  many-tinted  loveliness  of  evening 
in  the  ancient  Kingdom  of  Accawmacke,  to  which,  for 
some  years  to  come,  my  residence  was  now  transferred. 


CHAPTER  III 

OUR  FOLKS  IN  GENERAL  AND  IN  PARTICULAR 

Our  folks  have  been  in  Old  England  since  the  days  of 
Alfred,  and  in  America  since  Thomas  West,  Lord  de  la 
War,  was  governor  of  the  Virginia  colony  in  1608,  when 
numerous  brothers,  cousins,  and  relatives  followed  him 
hither  in  search  of  the  treasures  of  the  still  undiscovered 
South  Sea. 

There  and  here,  for  centuries,  in  peace  and  in  war,  they 
have  never  failed  to  be  mixed  up  in  the  thick  of  whatever 
game  the  English  stock  has  played. 

They  have  lived  and  died  in  Devonshire  and  Somerset- 
shire for  nearly  ten  centuries.  Until  its  recent  destruc- 
tion to  make  way  for  the  government  buildings,  the  old 
family  nest  at  Plymouth  was  almost  as  well  known  to 
Englishmen  as  the  banks  of  the  Tamar  itself.  Burke 
tells  us  the  name  is  among  the  oldest  in  England. 

The  first  American  ancestor  of  our  name  was  a  younger 
son  of  these  old  Devonshire  people,  and  came  to  the  Vir- 
ginia colony  in  the  reign  of  Charles  the  First.  The  an- 
cient shipping-lists  show  that  he  sailed  from  Gravesend, 
July  4,  1635,  after  first  taking  the  oath  of  allegiance  to 
king  and  church.  He  was  a  lad  of  eighteen,  who,  yield- 
ing to  the  spirit  of  adventure  which  then  prevailed  in 
England,  joined  his  friends,  the  Scarburghs  of  Norfolk, 
in  the  Kingdom  of  Accawmacke. 

Two  hundred  and  sixty  years  of  separation  ordinarily 
works  considerable  estrangement,  and  difference  in  char- 


24  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

acteristics,  between  the  separated  branches  of  a  family. 
Not  so  with  our  people.  If  they  possess  one  predominant 
trait,  it  is  their  faith  in  and  attachment  to  anybody  and 
everybody  bearing  the  name,  or  springing  from  the  old 
stock.  But  for  the  evidence  it  gives  of  stanchness  in  love 
and  loyalty,  the  way  in  which  the  old  ties  are  kept  up,  to 
this  day,  between  the  English  and  American  branches 
would  seem  absurd.  Descendants  in  the  eighth  degree 
since  the  separation  recognize  the  kinship ;  and  the  Eng- 
lish cousins  welcome  the  Americans  to  hearth  and  home, 
taking  no  note  of  the  two  and  a  half  centuries  which  have 
elapsed  since  the  American  immigrant  wandered  off  from 
his  English  home,  and  placed  the  Atlantic  Ocean  between 
himself  and  his  family. 

And  let  me  tell  you,  you  boys  of  America,  that  there  is 
no  higher  inspiration  to  any  man  to  be  a  good  man,  a  good 
citizen,  and  a  good  son,  brother,  or  father,  than  the  know- 
ledge that  you  come  from  honest  blood.  Few  who  have 
it  scorn  it,  and  many  of  those  who  are  loudest  in  belittling 
it  would  give  all  they  have  to  possess  it.  And,  boys,  let 
me  tell  you  another  thing.  When  you  are  hunting  for 
that  honest  blood,  when  you  are  looking  back  into  the 
wellsprings  of  your  existence  for  the  source  of  the  virtue, 
the  courage,  the  manhood,  the  truth,  the  honesty,  the 
reverence,  the  family  love,  the  simplicity  of  life,  which 
will  make  you  what  true  men  ought  to  be,  believe  me,  you 
are  more  apt  to  find  it  in  the  progenitors  who  came  from 
"  the  right  little,  tight  little  island "  than  anywhere  else 
on  this  rolling  planet. 

Don't  deceive  yourselves  with  the  notion  that  England 
did  not  furnish  the  best  of  us.  We  have  had  our  trou- 
bles with  her  in  the  past,  it  is  true.  But  it  is  hard  for 
the  mother  to  realize  that  her  boy  is  grown,  and  accord 
him  his  rights  as  a  man.     She  sometimes  makes  it  very 


OUR  FOLKS  IN  GENERAL  AND  IN  PARTICULAR    25 

uncomfortable  for  him  by  failing  to  recognize  that  he  is 
no  longer  in  his  swaddling-clothes.  But  there  is  not  a 
true-hearted  boy  in  the  world  who,  in  spite  of  his  mo- 
ther's shortcomings,  does  not  feel  in  his  heart  that  there 
is  no  other  like  her. 

Don't  take  my  word  for  it,  if  you  think  I  am  an  old 
fogy.  Wait  until  you  grow  up  and  see  the  world  for 
yourselves.  Travel  through  Russia,  or  Turkey,  or  Austria, 
and  you  will  never  see  a  thing  to  stir  your  heart  with  a 
desire  to  be  one  of  them.  Stand  in  the  shadow  of  the 
Pyramids,  and  you  will  be  untouched  by  one  wish  that 
your  blood  were  Egyptian.  Go  through  Germany,  and, 
while  you  will  find  there  much  to  admire,  there  will  still 
be  something  lacking.  In  the  home  of  the  fickle  Gaul, 
even  at  Napoleon's  tomb,  the  American  boy  is  not  in 
touch  with  his  surroundings.  Spain  and  Italy,  while  pos- 
sessed of  a  wealth  of  antique  beauty,  are  to  us  only  echoes 
of  a  decayed  and  different  civilization. 

But,  some  sunny  day  in  London,  wander  through  West- 
minster Abbey  and  read  the  names.  Some  misty  morning 
in  Trafalgar  Square,  cast  your  eye  upward  to  the  form  of 
Nelson,  as  he  stands  there  in  the  fog,  with  the  lions  sleep- 
ing at  the  base  of  his  column.  In  some  leisure  hour,  visit 
the  crypt  of  St.  Paul's,  where  the  car  that  bore  Wellington 
to  his  rest  still  stands.  Then,  perhaps,  you  will  appre- 
ciate the  meaning  of  an  old  fogy  when  he  tells  you, 
"  There  's  nothing  outside  America  which  tugs  at  an 
American's  heart-strings  like  the  names  and  deeds  and 
monuments  of  Old  England." 

Don't  let  us  deceive  ourselves  about  it,  either.  Don't 
think  or  say  that  it  is  a  better  country  than  our  own. 
Don't  let  us  be  Anglomaniacs.  That  is  not  at  all  neces- 
sary. America  is  good  enough  for  us.  In  many  things 
these  blessed  United  States  already  equal  any  nation  on 


26  THE   END   OF  AN  ERA 

the  globe.  In  almost  everything,  time  considered,  they 
are  a  marvel.  Within  the  past  seventy  years,  American 
inventive  genius  has  contributed  more  to  make  life  easy, 
and  to  advance  civilization,  than  all  the  world  beside  in 
many  hundred  years,  if  we  except  the  inventions  of  print- 
ing and  gunpowder.  In  future  we  may,  and  probably 
shall,  become  in  all  things  the  greatest  nation  that  ever 
existed.  But  it  is  not  disloyalty  to  your  own  country, 
and  no  disparagement  of  its  greatness,  to  thank  God  that 
the  people  from  whom  we  sprang  were  Englishmen,  and 
that  we  have  part  and  lot  in  England's  glory. 

In  all  America,  there  is  no  spot  more  emphatically  Eng- 
lish than  the  Kingdom  of  Accawmacke.  Nay,  more  :  there 
is  many  a  spot  in  England  to-day  where  the  manners  and 
customs  of  the  population  have  changed  more  from  what 
they  were  in  the  seventeenth  century,  than  those  of  that 
little  peninsula  in  America.  Of  the  twenty-five  thousand 
white  people  in  the  two  counties  of  the  eastern  shore  of 
Virginia,  it  is  safe  to  say  that  four  fifths  of  them  are  de- 
scendants of  the  earliest  English  settlers,  and  that  there 
has  been  less  infusion  of  foreign  element  there  within  the 
last  three  centuries  than  in  many  parts  of  England  itself. 
But  a  few  years  ago,  this  writer  sat  in  the  old  church  at 
Bishops  Lydeard,  Somersetshire,  and  looked  over  the 
congregation.  The  resemblance  in  appearance  between 
the  people  assembled  there  and  the  congregations  he  had 
often  seen  in  the  Episcopal  Church  at  Eastville,  the  first 
county  seat  of  Accawmacke,  and  in  the  Bruton  Parish 
Church  at  Williamsburg,  was  striking. 

The  first  John  Wise  married  Hannah,  eldest  daughter 
of  Captain  Edmund  Scarburgh.  In  1655,  we  find  him 
locating  his  grant  from  Governor  Diggs  on  Nandua  Creek, 
and  in  1662,  he  was  one  of  the  first  presiding  justices  of 
the  newly  formed  county  of  Accawmacke.     In  this  year, 


OUR  FOLKS  IN  GENERAL  AND  IN  PARTICULAR    27 

also,  the  Indian  chief  Ekeekes,  for  "seven  Dutch  blan- 
kets "  sold  him  the  two  thousand  acre  tract  on  Chescones- 
seck,  named  "  Clifton  "  by  its  new  purchaser,  —  a  tract  of 
which  the  greater  part  descended  without  deed  from  father 
to  son  for  six  generations,  until  sold  to  pay  the  debts  of 
the  seventh  heir,  who  was  killed  in  1864  in  the  American 
war  between  the  States. 

John,  eldest  son  of  the  emigrant,  married  a  Matilda, 
daughter  of  Lieutenant-Colonel  John  West,  and  died  in 
1717.  Their  son  John  married  a  Scarburgh,  daughter 
of  Colonel  Tully  Robinson,  and  died  in  1767.  Their  son 
John  married  a  Margaret,  daughter  of  Colonel  George 
Douglas,  and  died  in  1770.  Their  son  John  married  first 
a  Mary,  daughter  of  Judge  James  Henry,  and  then  a 
Sarah,  daughter  of  General  John  Cropper,  and  died  in 
1813  ;  and  their  son  Henry,  a  younger  son,  was  my  father. 
Related  to  a  great  number  of  the  people  of  his  county ; 
known  to  all ;  honored  and  respected  for  his  high  charac- 
ter ;  and  beloved  for  his  widely  known  talents  and  elo- 
quence, which  had  reflected  honor  upon  the  community,  — 
father's  return  from  Brazil  to  his  home  in  Accomack  was 
the  occasion  of  great  rejoicing  and  festivities  upon  the 
eastern  shore. 

No  more  beautiful  spot  for  a  dwelling-place  can  be 
found  anywhere  than  his  home  named  "Only."  It  is 
located  upon  a  bold  estuary  of  the  Chesapeake,  called 
Onancock  Creek,  which  comes  down  westwardly  from  its 
source,  and,  upon  reaching  Only,  makes  a  graceful  turn, 
first  southward,  then  westward,  then  northward,  and, 
curving  like  a  horseshoe,  incloses  within  its  bend  five 
acres  of  ground,  with  banks  high  above  the  stream  and 
level  as  a  table,  on  which  stands  a  grove  of  noble  oaks  of 
the  original  growth. 

In  the  neck  of  the  horseshoe,  with  the  grove  behind  it 


28  THE  END  OF  AN  ERA 

and  a  fan-shaped  lawn  of  greensward  before  it,  stood  the 
mansion  house.     It  was  not  a  stately  structure.     There 
are  few  such  among  the  simple  folk  of  this  Peninsula. 
But  it  was  a  model  of  scrupulous  neatness,  every  way  fit 
for  the  residence  of  an  unpretentious  country  gentleman, 
and,  outside  and  inside,  gave  evidence  of  taste  and  refine- 
ment.   On  the  eastern  side  of  the  lawn,  a  terraced  garden 
ran  down  to  the  water's  edge;  and  about  the  porches, 
roses,  cape  jessamines,  and  honeysuckles  climbed  in  great 
luxuriance.     Adjoining  the  house  were  the  kitchen  and 
quarters  of  the  household  slaves,  and  outside  the  lawn, 
beyond   the   terraced  garden,  were  the  barns,  carriage- 
houses,  stables,  and  cattle-pens.     Still  further  away  were 
the  quarters  occupied  by  the  plantation  slaves.     Looking 
upstream,  other  pretty  points  were  visible,  on  which,  in 
groves,  the  picturesque  dwellings  of  the  neighbors  were 
seen;    and  in   the    further    distance  was  the   village  of 
Onancock,  with  its  steeples,  and  sandy  streets,  and  red- 
topped  houses,  and  wharves  swarming  with  boats  of  all 
sizes  from  the  schooner  to    the    skiff.     Westward   from 
Only,  the  stream  courses  broad  and  shining  between  slop- 
ing banks,  on  which,  here  and  there,  their  greensward 
often  coming  down  to  the  water's  edge,  stood  other  homes, 
which  looked  smaller  and  smaller  in  the  distance.     "Far 
away,  beyond  a  dim  point  of  pines  marking  the  mouth  of 
Onancock  Creek,  the  sparkling  whitecaps  of  the  bay  are 
visible,  with  the  sails  of  commerce  passing  up  and  down, 
or  turning  in  and  out  of  the  entrance  to  the  creek. 

On  the  beautiful  November  morning  determined  upon 
for  welcoming  my  father  on  his  return  to  the  United 
States,  relatives,  neighbors,  friends,  clients,  and  political 
adherents  began  to  assemble  at  Only. 

Bright  and  early,  activity  was  visible  on  the  plantation. 
Under  the  wide- spreading  oaks,  long  tables  were  impro- 


OUR  FOLKS  IN  GENERAL  AND  IN  PARTICULAR    29 

vised,  covered  with  snowy  linen,  and  groaning  with  every- 
thing good  to  eat.  At  several  points  under  the  bluffs,  pits 
were  dug  where  beeves  and  sheep  and  pigs  were  bar- 
becued, and  oysters  and  clams  and  crabs  and  fish  were 
cooked  by  the  bushel.  Great  hampers  of  food,  sent  from 
the  village,  or  from  the  homes  of  neighbors,  stood  about 
the  tables,  ready  for  distribution  when  the  feast  should 
begin.  The  house  itself,  decorated  with  flowers  and 
evergreens,  was  thrown  wide  open  to  the  guests,  and  in 
the  rooms  of  the  first  floor  was  spread  a  collation  for  the 
more  distinguished  visitors. 

By  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  earliest  of  the 
guests  hove  in  sight.  By  ten  o'clock,  the  grandees  of 
the  county  began  to  arrive. 

There  were  Colonel  Joynes,  the  county  clerk  ;  Lorenzo 
Bell,  the  county  attorney ;  the  Arbuckles,  the  Custises ; 
the  Finneys,  the  Waples;  the  Corbins  from  near  the  Mary- 
land line;  the  Savages  from  Upshur's  Neck;  the  Crop- 
pers from  Bowman's  Folly  on  the  seaside ;  the  Sneads 
from  Mount  Prospect ;  the  Upshurs  from  Brownsville ; 
the  Baylys  from  Mount  Custis  ;  and  the  Yerbys,  the 
Nottingham^,  the  Goffigons,  the  Kennards,  and  Smiths, 
from  Northampton.  But  why  enumerate  ?  Their  name 
was  legion. 

By  midday  the  stables  and  stable-yards  were  filled ; 
and  the  horses,  fastened  to  the  front-yard  fence,  formed  a 
continuous  line  ;  while  the  creek  about  the  grove  was  liter- 
ally filled  with  small  craft  ranging  from  canoe  to  "pungy," 
and  a  steamboat  had  arrived  from  Norfolk  with  a  great 
company  and  a  band  of  music.  This  band,  playing  in  the 
grove,  was  an  endless  source  of  wonder  and  delight  to 
many  of  the  primitive  people,  who  heard  a  brass  band 
that  day  for  the  first,  and  no  doubt,  in  some  instances, 
the  last  time  in  their  lives. 


30  THE  END  OF  AN  ERA 

Within  the  house,  father  and  mother  held  a  long  levee, 
welcoming  old  friends,  and  stirred  to  their  hearts'  depths 
by  the  simple  ovation  of  which  they  were  the  recipients. 

Without,  under  the  shade  of  the  trees,  hundreds  of  vis- 
itors, after  paying  their  respects  to  the  host  and  hostess, 
walked  or  sat  about  and  chatted  with  each  other. 

We  may  be  sure  that  not  the  least  theme  of  their  con- 
versation was  politics ;  for  not  only  was  it  in  Virginia 
where  everybody  talked  politics  everywhere,  but  it  was 
just  at  the  period  when  Americans  were  carrying  all 
before  them  in  Mexico,  and  the  Whigs  were  about  to 
elect  old  "  Rough-and-Ready,"  and  snatch  political  con- 
trol from  the  Democracy.  Nor  was  there  lack  of  party 
differences  among  the  assembled  guests,  to  give  spice  to 
the  discussions.  Hot  and  heavy  was  the  argument  be- 
tween "  Chatter  Bill  "  Nottingham  and  "  Monkey  "  John- 
son, as  to  which  national  party  was  entitled  to  the  honors 
for  the  American  triumph  in  the  Mexican  war.  Every- 
body had  his  nickname  in  these  days. 

Colonel  Robert  Poulson,  the  county  representative  in 
the  legislature,  had  his  group  around  him,  as,  red  in  face 
and  solemn  of  mien,  he  ventilated  his  views  on  the  best 
method  of  protecting  the  Virginia  oyster-beds  from  Mary- 
land poachers.  Captain  Stephen  Hopkins,  the  largest 
vessel-owner  of  the  county,  had  his  admiring  coterie,  who 
insisted  upon  hearing  his  opinion,  which  he  gave  modestly, 
as  to  the  prospect  of  a  rise  in  the  price  of  corn  in  the 
Baltimore  market.  Not  far  away,  a  noisy  group  of  young- 
sters were  bantering  each  other  as  to  the  respective  merits 
of  two  saucy  centreboard  skiffs  that  rode  proudly  near 
the  shore,  and  it  was  not  long  before  a  race  between  the 
Southerner  and  the  Sea-Gull  was  a  fixed  event  of  the 
future. 

As  the  day  wore  on,  and  when  the  multitude  had  been 


OUR  FOLKS  IN  GENERAL  AND  IN  PARTICULAR  31 

fed,  a  movement  from  the  house  to  the  grove  indicated 
that  something  important  was  about  to  occur.  The  host 
and  hostess  and  the  distinguished  guests  moved  out  to  an 
improvised  platform  under  the  oaks,  and  there  began  the 
formal  ceremonies  of  welcome. 

Colonel  Joynes,  the  venerable  county  clerk,  as  of  course, 
called  the  gathering  to  order,  when  the  stragglers  had  all 
drawn  near.  Then  came  the  introduction  of  a  young 
fellow  from  Hampton,  afterwards  somewhat  known  as  a 
poet,  who  read  an  original  poem  lauding  Virginia  and 
her  honored  son.  Then  followed  a  brief  address  of  wel- 
come from  young  Bell.  And  then  father  stood  up,  facing, 
for  the  first  time  after  years  of  absence,  the  people  among 
whom  he  was  born  ;  the  kin  who  had  loved  him  from  his 
infancy;  the  constituency  who  had  made  his  brilliant 
career  possible;  the  people  who  still  had  faith  in  him, 
and  had  come  so  far  to  do  him  honor. 

It  was  an  impressive  scene.  Restraining  himself,  and 
laboring  under  the  deep  emotion  such  interest  in  himself 
was  well  calculated  to  arouse,  he  drew  his  audience  to  him 
with  the  simple  speech  which  the  skilled  orator  so  well 
knows  to  be  the  most  effective  at  the  outset.  Then,  grad- 
ually warming  up  to  his  theme,  he  pictured  the  yearning 
of  his  heart  for  these  old  scenes  during  his  long  exile  in 
foreign  lands ;  reviewed  his  work  abroad  in  the  interest 
of  humanity ;  his  desire  to  see  the  infamous  slave  trade 
abolished ;  his  hope  for  some  scheme  by  which  the  curse 
of  slavery  might  ultimately  be  removed  without  wrong  to 
the  owner;  his  realization  of  the  glorious  work  accom- 
plished by  the  Union  arms  in  Mexico  during  his  absence ; 
his  deep  sense  that,  with  restored  health  and  the  youth 
remaining  to  him,  there  was  still  much  of  his  life's  work 
before  him ;  his  gratitude  to  God  for  this  restoration  to 
his  own  people  ;  his  deep  emotion  at  this  evidence  of  their 


32  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

continued  trust ;  and  his  abiding  faith  in  their  further 
confidence  in  him.  He  concluded  with  a  brilliant  and 
genuine  tribute  of  affection  for  a  constituency  so  true  and 
so  confiding.  His  audience  were  wrought  into  a  burst  of 
thunderous  applause,  which  was  renewed  and  renewed  as 
the  band  played,  "  Carry  Me  Back  to  Old  Virginia." 

The  formal  ceremonies  over,  the  visitors  gradually  dis- 
persed, and  quiet  reigned  once  more  at  Only. 

It  is  the  death  of  that  era  —  a  death  which  be<mn  with 
my  birth,  and  was  complete  before  I  attained  manhood  — 
that  is  to  be  chronicled  in  the  following  pages. 


CHAPTER  IV 

MY  MOTHER:   FIRST   LESSONS   IN   POLITICS 

The  autumn  of  1850  brought  an  event  freighted  with 
deep  significance  to  me.  My  mother  died.  Although  I 
was  but  four  years  old,  it  made  a  profound  impression, 
and  it  exercised  an  incalculable  influence  upon  my  after 
life.  My  mother  was  a  Northern  woman,  daughter  of 
Hon.  John  Sergeant,  a  distinguished  lawyer,  and  for 
many  years  representative  in  Congress  from  Philadel- 
phia. Her  people  were  of  New  England  blood,  identi- 
fied with  the  earliest  and  most  important  events  of  the 
Plymouth  Colony. 

She  had  been  taught  to  practice  economy,  simplicity, 
and  scrupulous  neatness  and  order.  She  was  deeply 
religious,  charitable,  sympathetic,  highly  sentimental,  and 
withal  ambitious.  She  was  one  of  those  beautiful,  refined 
creatures  for  which  the  City  of  Brotherly  Love  is  famous. 
Hers  was  one  of  those  extraordinary  natures  whose  physi- 
cal comeliness  seems  to  make  no  injurious  impression 
upon  loveliness  of  character.  Indeed,  both  in  herself  and 
with  those  about  her,  consideration  of  her  appearance  was 
subordinated  to  appreciation  of  her  moral  and  intellectual 
beauty. 

It  was  seven  years  after  her  marriage  before  she  fully 
realized  the  vast  difference  between  the  life  in  which  she 
had  been  reared  and  that  into  which  her  marriage  had 
brought  her.  For,  prior  to  their  departure  for  Brazil, 
father,  being  in  Congress,  had  resided  for  the  most  part  in 


34  THE  END   OF   AN  ERA 

Washington,  and  had  no  fixed  establishment  in  Virginia. 
In  Brazil,  social  conditions  had  been  strange  to  herself 
and  husband  alike.  It  was  only  on  my  father's  return 
from  Brazil  —  when  the  Virginia  establishment  was  re- 
sumed —  that  she  realized  the  vastly  altered  terms  of  hex- 
existence.  It  is  fortunate  it  was  so.  It  gave  time  for  her 
wifely  love  to  become  fixed  and  deepened  beyond  disturb- 
ance;  and  residence  in  Brazil  undoubtedly  took  away 
the  shock  of  slavery  as  it  existed  at  home.  Coming  now 
to  a  knowledge  of  Virginia  slavery,  it  was  mucfi  less  re- 
pulsive than  it  would  have  been  if  she  had  been  trans- 
planted direct  from  Philadelphia.  Notwithstanding  this 
gradual  change,  the  contrast  was  strong  enough  to  make 
her  fully  realize  the  difference  between  the  duties  and  the 
pleasures  of  her  new  home  and  those  to  which  she  had 
been  accustomed  in  girlhood.  Of  the  society  about  her, 
she  had  nothing  to  complain.  The  good  old  people  were 
of  excellent  social  position,  and  Philadelphia  was  their 
social  rendezvous.  Many  of  them  were  acquaintances  of 
her  family.  They  were  neighborly  and  congenial  enough, 
and  the  means  of  intercommunication  were  excellent. 
One  of  lighter  tastes,  and  less  serious  purpose  and  sense 
of  duty,  could  easily  have  found,  in  her  new  surroundings, 
all  the  social  enjoyment  she  desired,  and  might  have  been 
quite  happy  and  free  from  care. 

But  it  was  not  so  with  the  mistress  of  Only.  She  had 
too  much  of  the  old  Puritan  blood  in  her  to  ignore  the 
word  "  duty."  She  adored  her  husband,  and  was  as  ambi- 
tious as  himself,  which  is  saying  a  great  deal.  She  knew 
that,  if  he  was  to  maintain  his  professional  and  political 
prominence,  she  must  assume  her  share  of  the  duties  of 
their  domestic  life  ;  and  when  she  fully  realized  what  that 
meant  for  her,  she  doubted  her  ability  to  bear  the  burden 
it  imposed;  but,  asking  God  to  sustain  her,  resolved  to  try. 


MY   MOTHER  35 

With  the  abundance  of  servants  at  her  command,  the 
care  of  her  children  was  a  task  comparatively  easy.  But 
it  was  these  very  servants  who  were  the  chief  cause  of 
her  anxieties.  They  were  slaves.  When  she  had  con- 
sented to  marry  her  husband,  she  had  not  fully  consid- 
ered, perhaps,  the  difference  between  conducting  a  Phi- 
ladelphia household  and  being  mistress  of  a  Virginia 
plantation.  At  the  former  place,  an  impudent  or  sick  or 
worthless  servant  might  be  discharged  or  sent  to  a  hospi- 
tal, and  the  place  supplied  by  another.  Here,  a  discharge 
was  impossible.  Beside  the  necessity  for  discipline,  every 
requirement,  whether  of  food  or  clothing,  or  care  in  sick- 
ness, had  to  be  supplied  to  these  forty  servants,  who  were 
as  dependent  as  so  many  babies.  In  those  days,  slavery 
was  not  looked  upon,  even  in  Quaker  Philadelphia,  with 
the  shudder  and  abhorrence  one  feels  towards  it  now.  It 
had  not  been  a  great  while  since  it  existed  in  Pennsyl- 
vania. A  few  slaves  were  still  owned  in  Delaware,  and 
Maryland  and  Virginia  were  slave  States.  The  time  had 
come,  it  is  true,  when  it  was  abolished  in  Pennsylvania ; 
but  its  existence  was  a  fact  so  familiar  that  it  produced 
no  particular  protest  or  expression  of  abhorrence,  and,  by 
all  save  a  small  coterie  of  abolitionists,  was  regarded  as 
probably  permanent.  Slave-owners  mingled  with  non- 
slave-owners  upon  terms  of  mutual  regard  and  respect, 
unaffected,  apparently  at  least,  by  any  consideration  of 
the  subject  of  slavery. 

Even  if  my  mother  had  no  qualms  of  conscience  con- 
cerning ownership  of  negroes,  her  sense  of  duty  carried 
her  far  beyond  the  mere  supplying  of  their  physical  needs, 
or  requiring  that  they  render  faithful  service.  Forty  im- 
mortal souls,  as  she  viewed  it,  had  been  committed  to  her 
guidance.  Every  time  one  of  these  gentle  and  affection- 
ate creatures  called  her  "  mistress,"  the  sense  of  obliga- 


36  THE   END   OF  AN  ERA 

tion  resting  upon  her,  to  keep  their  souls  as  well  as  their 
bodies  fit  for  God,  echoed  back  to  her  tender  heart  with 
alarming  distinctness.  And  in  time,  sweetly  and  humbly 
as  she  performed  her  task,  it  became  very  irksome.  She 
sleeps  to-day  in  Laurel  Hill,  on  the  banks  of  the  Schuyl- 
kill, having  died  at  the  early  age  of  thirty-three,  and  no 
one  knows  how  much  that  sense  of  duty  to  her  slaves 
contributed  to  her  death. 

Ah,  you  who  blame  the  slaveholder  of  the  olden  day, 
how  little  you  know  whereof  you  speak,  or  how  he  or  she 
became  such ;  how  little  allowance  you  make  for  surround- 
ing circumstances  ;  how  little  you  reck,  in  your  general 
anathemas  against  the  slave-owner,  of  the  true  and  beauti- 
ful and  good  lives  that  sacrificed  themselves,  toiling  to  do 
their  duty  to  the  slaves  in  that  state  of  life  to  which  it 
pleased  God  to  call  them  !  There  is  not  a  graveyard  in 
Old  Virginia  but  has  some  tombstone  marking  the  resting- 
place  of  somebody  who  accepted  slavery  as  he  or  she 
found  it,  who  bore  it  as  a  duty  and  a  burden,  and  who 
wore  himself  or  herself  out  in  the  conscientious  effort  to 
perform  that  duty  well.  Mark  you,  I  am  not  bemoaning 
the  abolition  of  slavery.  It  was  a  curse,  and  nobody 
knows  better  than  I  the  terrible  abuses  which  were  pos- 
sible and  actual  under  the  system.  Thank  God,  it  is 
gone. 

All  that  I  am  saying  to  you  now  is,  you  who  fought 
slavery,  as  well  as  you  who  have  heard  it  described  in  the 
passionate  denunciations  following  its  death,  realize  that 
the  name  of  slave-owner  did  not  always,  or  even  in  the 
majority  of  cases,  imply  that  the  slave-owner  was  one  whit 
less  conscientious,  one  whit  less  humane,  one  whit  less 
religious,  or  one  whit  less  entitled  to  man's  respect  or 
God's  love,  than  you,  who,  because,  perhaps,  you  were 
never  slave-owners,  delight  to  picture  them  as  something 


MY  MOTHER  37 

inferior  to  your  precious  selves.  After  all,  it  was  not 
you,  but  God  that  abolished  slavery.  You  were  his  mere 
instruments  to  do  his  work. 

In  the  case  of  my  mother,  her  task  was  somewhat  light- 
ened by  the  character  of  her  possessions,  for  the  slaves 
were  of  more  than  usual  intelligence,  and  were,  for  the 
most  part,  family  inheritances. 

This  was  no  abode  of  hardship  and  stony  hearts.  No 
slaves  were  sold  from  that  plantation.  The  young  ones 
might  have  eaten  their  master's  head  off  before  he  would 
have  taken  money  for  their  fathers'  and  their  mothers' 
children.  No  overseer  brandished  the  whip  that  is  so 
prominent  a  feature  upon  the  stage,  or  in  the  abolition 
books  of  fiction. 

Back  to  me,  through  the  mists  of  nearly  half  a  century, 
comes  once  more  the  vision  of  the  young  Puritan  mother, 
who  followed  the  man  she  loved  into  this  exile  from 
every  association  of  her  youth,  and  yet  was  happy  in  that 
love  because  she  worshiped  him  next  to  her  God. 

Now  I  see  her  upon  a  Sabbath  afternoon,  with  all  her 
slaves  assembled  in  the  hallway,  dressed  in  their  Sunday 
clothes.  Young  and  old,  her  own  children  and  her  ser* 
vants,  are  gathered  about  her  to  listen  to  the  word  of 
God. 

I  have  heard  many  great  orators  and  preachers  in  my 
day,  but  never  a  voice  like  that  *oi  my  mother,  as  she  read 
and  expounded  the  Holy  Word  to  her  children  and  her 
slaves. 

In  later  years,  I  have  heard  great  voices  and  great  mel- 
odies, but  never  sweeter  sounds  to  mortal  ear  than  those 
of  my  mother  and  her  children  and  her  slaves,  singing  the 
simple  hymns  she  read  out  to  them  on  those  Sabbath  after- 
noons at  Only,  in  the  days  of  slavery. 

Then  came  the  lessons  in  the  catechism  taught  to  chil- 


38  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

dren  and  slaves  in  the  same  class,  where,  before  God,  the 
two  stood  upon  equal  terms,  the  blacks  sometimes  proving 
themselves  to  be  the  quicker  scholars  of  the  two. 

Such  was  my  childhood's  home ;  and  such  was  many 
another  home  in  that  land  which,  year  by  year,  is  being 
more  and  more  depicted  by  ignorance  and  prejudice 
as  the  abode  of  only  the  brutal  slave-driver  and  his 
victim. 

The  beautiful  month  of  October,  1850,  with  its  wealth 
of  color  and  its  exquisite  skies,  rolled  round.  All  seemed 
well  at  home.  My  father,  once  more  immersed  in  politi- 
cal life,  was  absent  in  Richmond,  a  delegate  to  a  great 
constitutional  convention,  where  all  his  energies  were 
directed  towards  adjusting  the  true  basis  of  representation 
in  the  legislature  between  the  sections  of  Virginia  where 
slavery  existed  and  those  where  no  slaves  were  owned. 
It  was  a  difficult  question,  on  which  he  had  taken  ground 
in  favor  of  a  manhood  suffrage  as  opposed  to  suffrage 
based  upon  representation  of  the  property  owners.  Nearly 
every  mail  brought  letters  to  mother  announcing  the  pro- 
gress of  the  fight,  in  which  she  seemed  deeply  absorbed. 
The  reputation  which  her  husband  was  making  resulted 
five  years  later  in  his  election  as  governor,  and  she  clearly 
foresaw  that  result.  This  prospect  reconciled  her  to  the 
separation,  and  made  her  look  bravely  forward  to  an 
expected  event. 

One  day  I  missed  my  mother,  and  was  told  that  she 
was  ill.  Servants  were  hurrying  back  and  forth,  and 
soon  the  doctor  arrived.  Bedtime  came,  and  Eliza,  the 
white  nurse,  took  me  away  from  the  nursery  adjoining 
my  mother's  chamber,  and  put  me  to  bed  in  a  strange 
room.  There,  after  undressing  me,  she  made  me  kneel, 
and,  in  saying  my  prayers,  ask  God  to  bless  mamma. 
When  I  was  tucked  away  in  bed,  she  sat  beside  me,  and 


MY   MOTHER  39 

stroked  my  long  tresses,  and  sighed.  It  was  all  very 
strange.  "  Mammy  Liza,  is  mamma  very  sick?  "  I  asked. 
"  No,  my  child,  I  hope  not,"  said  she,  and  then  bade  me 
go  to  sleep,  and  soon  I  closed  my  eyes. 

It  was  not  for  long,  for  in  an  hour  or  two  I  heard 
voices  in  the  hall,  and  hurrying  footsteps,  and,  awakening 
and  sitting  bolt  upright  in  bed  awhile,  I  finally  slipped 
down  to  the  floor,  and  made  my  way,  in  my  thin  night- 
clothes,  into  the  hall,  where  I  found  the  servants  assem- 
bled, and  weeping  as  if  their  hearts  would  break,  uttering 
loud  lamentations.  "  What  is  it,  Aunt  Mary  Anne  ? " 
said  I,  cold,  and  shivering  with  fright.  "  Oh,  my  po' 
baby,  yo'  mamma  is  dead,  —  yo'  mamma  is  dead !  Oh, 
my  po',  po'  mistis  is  dead  —  dead  —  dead ! "  she  screamed, 
at  the  same  time  seizing  me,  and  wrapping  me  in  her 
shawl,  and  bearing  me  back  to  the  warmth. 

Night  wore  away  mournfully  enough,  until  at  last,  with 
a  faithful  slave  beside  me,  I  sobbed  myself  asleep,  cry- 
ing more  because  others  about  me  wept,  than  because  I 
knew  the  real  cause  for  my  grief.  Morning  came,  and 
when  I  awoke,  I  could  not  yet  fully  understand  the  solemn 
silence  of  all  about  me,  or  the  meaning  of  the  strange 
black  things  I  saw.  Breakfast  over,  the  old  nurse  came 
to  me  to  go  with  her  and  see  mamma.  In  silence,  and  amid 
the  sobs  of  every  servant  on  the  place,  I  and  my  little  bro- 
ther and  sister  were  led  into  a  darkened  room.  There, 
on  the  bamboo  bedstead  which  she  had  brought  as  her 
favorite  from  Rio,  lay  mamma,  apparently  asleep,  a  tiny 
baby  resting  on  her  breast.  By  her  side,  his  head  buried 
in  the  pillow,  and  sobbing  as  if  his  heart  would  break,  was 
my  oldest  brother,  —  not  her  own  child,  but  one  who  had 
loved  her  as  his  own  mother,  and  who  now  mourned  a 
second  mother  dead.  Gazing  out  of  the  half -opened  win- 
dow, dressed  in  solemn  black,  stood  the  physician  who  had 


40  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

sought  in  vain  to  save  her.  I  was  frightened  and  awed 
beyond  utterance. 

The  next  day  the  Fashion,  Captain  Hopkins's  best 
vessel,  lay  to  at  the  Only  landing.  A  fearful-looking 
black  box  covered  with  velvet  was  borne  aboard  the 
Planter  with  solemn  steps.  Her  sails  were  hoisted.  With 
the  freshening  breeze  she  bore  away,  and,  as  the  even- 
ing sunlight  made  a  shining  pathway  on  Onancock  Creek, 
the  vessel  pursued  her  course  westward  until  she  became 
a  tiny  speck  and  disappeared.  They  told  me  that  my 
mother  was  in  heaven.  Since  that  day,  whenever  the 
route  to  heaven  arises  to  my  mind,  I  see  the  white  sails  of 
a  vessel  gliding  westward  in  the  golden  pathway  made 
upon  dancing  waters  by  the  brilliant  sinking  sun  of  a 
clear  autumn  evening. 

The  home-coming  of  father,  some  weeks  after  this  sad 
event,  was  pitiful  indeed. 

He  had  been  advised  of  my  mother's  death  by  a  mes- 
senger, who  rode  forty  miles  down  the  Peninsula,  crossed 
the  bay  to  Norfolk,  and  thence  telegraphed  to  Richmond. 
Such  were  the  difficulties  of  communication,  even  at  that 
recent  date.  When  the  news  first  reached  him,  the  body 
was  on  its  way  to  Baltimore,  and  thither  he  repaired  to 
meet  it,  and  accompany  it  to  its  last  resting-place.  After 
this,  he  had  been  compelled  to  return  to  his  duties  in  the 
convention  at  Richmond,  a  widowed  relative  having  mean- 
while assumed  charge  of  his  family,  and  holding  them 
together  until  he  could  return. 

In  the  darkness  of  a  drizzling  winter  evening,  after 
a  long,  cheerless  ride,  he  drew  near  his  desolate  home. 
A  chill  nor'easter  storm,  which  had  lasted  for  two  days, 
made  the  passage  across  the  Chesapeake,  in  the  stuffy 
little  steamboat  Monmouth,  exceedingly  disagreeable. 
The  few  friends  he  met  at  the  wharf  expressed  their  sym- 


MY  MOTHER  41 

patliy  more  by  subdued  speech  and  close  grasp  of  the 
hand  than  in  actual  utterance.  A  storm-stained  gunner, 
clad  in  oilcloth,  who  had  just  made  his  landing  from  his 
goose-blind  to  ship  his  game  to  market,  came  up  to  the 
carriage  and  handed  in,  as  tribute  of  his  interest,  a  beauti- 
ful brace  of  brant.  As  he  shook  the  rain  from  his  tar- 
paulin, remarking  that  it  was  a  great  day  for  shooting,  he 
uttered  no  word  of  consolation  ;  but  his  manner  and  his 
act  were  as  delicately  suggestive  of  his  reasons  as  if  he 
had  been  bred  to  the  manners  of  a  court. 

Although  the  vehicle  sent  for  father  was  amply  sup- 
plied with  curtains,  aprons,  and  robes,  the  rain  beat  in 
upon  him  as  he  drove  facing  the  storm,  its  cool  moisture 
not  ungrateful  to  his  fevered  cheek.  Ordinarily,  the 
homeward  ride  on  such  occasions  was  relieved  by  cheerful 
conversation  between  master  and  man  concerning  domestic 
matters  and  the  progress  of  farm  work.  To-night,  the 
weeds  of  mourning  and  the  sunken  cheek  and  eye  had 
awed  the  faithful  slave  into  respectful  silence,  which  the 
master  seldom  saw  fit  to  break.  Homeward  they  sped  in 
silence,  with  little  to  vary  the  monotonous  pitapat  of 
Lady  Ringtail's  hoofs  in  the  shallow  pools  with  which  the 
storm  had  filled  the  level  roads. 

He  lay  back  with  folded  arms  and  half-closed  eyes, 
resentfully  brooding  upon  the  hard  fate  which  had  twice 
made  him  a  widower.  At  a  turn  of  the  road  they  passed 
a  silver  maple,  whose  faultless  form  and  beautiful  coloring 
in  springtime  and  in  autumn  had  so  excited  the  admira- 
tion of  his  wife  that  the  children  had  named  it  "  mamma's 
tree."  It  was  leafless  and  bare  to-night.  A  scurrying 
blast,  shaking  it  as  they  passed,  blew  down  from  it  a 
shower  of  raindrops,  as  if  in  mockery. 

At  the  outer  farm-gate  the  driver  alighted,  and,  as 
father  walked  the  mare  slowly  through  the  open  gate,  he 


42  THE  END   OF  AN  ERA 

caught  sight  of  the  twinkling  light  which  shone  from  the 
chamber  where  mother  had  died.  It  had  ever  been  a 
beacon  to  him  in  days  gone  by.  There,  many  a  day,  had 
she  sat  and  watched  for  his  return ;  and  many  a  night 
had  she  drawn  back  the  curtain  that  he  migfht  see  her 
signal  first  of  all.  The  sight  of  it  had  always  warmed 
his  heart.  Now,  he  almost  shuddered  at  the  thought  of 
returning  home.  As  they  entered  the  yard,  and  drove 
around  the  circle  leading  to  the  doorstep,  he  turned  his 
face  away  from  her  terraced  garden,  only  to  look  upon 
the  arbor,  where,  in  days  gone  by,  she  had  delighted  to 
sit  and  watch  the  sunsets. 

Before  the  vehicle  drew  up  at  the  door,  news  of  the 
father's  and  the  master's  arrival  had  spread  through  all 
of  the  household.  Wide  open  flew  the  doors,  and  down 
the  steps,  bareheaded  and  heedless  of  rain  or  wind,  we 
children  rushed,  shouting  "  Papa —  papa —  papa !  "  and 
springing  into  his  arms  with  rapturous  kisses.  One  by 
one  we  were  snatched  and  hugged  and  kissed,  and  pushed 
backwards  up  the  steps,  with  orders  to  run  in  out  of  the 
rain,  while  he  busied  himself  for  a  moment  giving  direc- 
tions concerning  his  luggage  and  the  care  of  Lady  Ring- 
tail. 

Poor  little  ones  !  How  insensible  they  were  to  the  great 
calamity  that  had  befallen  them !  How  little  they  real- 
ized his  loss  or  their  own  !  In  the  short  weeks  since  our 
mother's  death,  —  weeks  filled  with  deep  affliction  to  him, 
— our  mourning-clothes  had  become  familiar  to  us  ;  our 
kind  old  aunt  had  taken  mother's  place  in  all  our  thoughts 
and  for  all  our  wants ;  our  mamma  was  only  a  beautiful 
vision  of  the  past.  We  laughed  and  romped,  and  greeted 
papa  with  joyous  faces ;  unconscious  alike  that  we  had 
cause  for  sorrow,  or  that  his  heart  was  bleeding  afresh  at 
sight  of  us. 


MY  MOTHER  43 

The  welcome  awaiting  him  within  was  different  from 
the  joyous  babble  of  the  little  ones  outside.  There,  almost 
dreading  to  meet  him,  was  the  half-grown  daughter  of  his 
first  marriage.  She  was  old  enough  to  know  and  feel 
what  a  deep,  irreparable  loss  had  come  upon  her  just  when 
she  most  needed  the  love  and  care  and  guidance  of  the 
one  now  dead.  It  was  not,  and  yet  it  was,  her  own  mo- 
ther that  had  died.  And  there  was  the  tender-hearted 
woman  who  had  come  to  keep  together  his  little  flock 
until  his  return.  She  had  truly  loved  his  wife,  and  now, 
herself  a  widow,  she  had  seen  him  twice  bereft. 

As  these  two  twined  their  arms  about  him,  and  buried 
their  faces  upon  his  shoulder  sobbing,  the  prattling  mo- 
therless children  paused  in  their  merriment  to  wonder 
why  their  grief  should  give  itself  new  vent  upon  an  occa- 
sion so  joyous  as  papa's  return. 

But  let  us  not  dwell  longer  upon  a  scene  so  mournful. 

Before  leaving  Richmond,  father  had  written  home 
directing  that  a  chamber  should  be  prepared  for  himself 
as  far  as  possible  from  his  former  apartment.  He  could 
not  brook  the  thought  of  living  surrounded  by  the  famil- 
iar objects  of  her  chamber.  Although  he  had  been  much 
absent  of  late,  and  much  engrossed  in  other  ambitions,  he 
was  a  man  devoted  to  his  family,  and  deeply  interested  in 
his  home.  He  knew,  whenever  he  reflected  upon  the  facts, 
that  his  apparent  neglect  of  these  duties  of  late  was  be- 
cause of  political  objects  he  could  not  abandon,  and  that 
his  course  had  been  taken  with  his  wife's  approval ;  but 
ever  and  anon  the  thought  came  back  to  him  that  she  had 
been  alone  when  she  died,  and,  in  spite  of  all  philosophy, 
the  memory  of  that  lonely  death  distressed  if  it  did  not 
actually  chide  him.  He  determined  that,  even  at  the 
sacrifice  of  ambition,  he  would  henceforth  devote  himself 
to  the  duties  he  owed  to  his  children  and  his  home,  and 


44  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

make  to  her  memory  the  atonement  for  what  he  could  not 
help  regarding  as  neglect  of  her  when  she  lived. 

To  this  resolution  I  was  indebted  for  four  or  five  of  the 
very  happiest  years  of  my  life.  To  this  day,  my  fancy 
takes  me  back  to  that  great  chamber  where  father  made 
me  his  bedfellow  and  constant  companion ;  to  that  high 
tester  bedstead  where,  many  a  night,  tucked  away  amid 
comfortable  linen,  I  watched  the  great  hickory  logs  flicker 
and  sputter  upon  the  andirons,  and  closed  my  eyes,  at 
last,  lulled  by  the  never-ceasing  scratching  of  father's 
goose-quill  pen  at  a  great  writing-table  in  the  centre  of 
the  room ;  to  the  delightful  half-consciousness  of  being 
folded  in  his  arms  when,  late  in  the  night,  he  joined  me, 
and  hugged  me  to  his  heart. 

We  were  early  risers,  we  two  chums  and  companions. 
By  daybreak,  the  servant  came  in  and  built  a  roaring  fire. 
By  sunrise,  father  and  I  were  dressed,  and  out  upon  the 
farm,  or  at  the  stables  or  the  cowpens,  followed  by  Boxer 
and  Frolic,  our  Irish  terriers.  The  fashionable  folk  of 
to-day  affect  the  Irish  terrier,  and  imagine  that  they  have 
a  new  breed.  Father  had  a  brace  of  them  over  forty 
years  ago,  and  they  were  sure  death  to  the  rabbits  of 
Only.  Many  and  many  a  day  we  came  back  to  breakfast 
with  one,  two,  or  three  molly-cottontails  caught  by  Boxer 
and  Frolic  in  our  morning  excursions  upon  the  farm. 

Then  there  was  hog-killing  time,  when,  long  before  day, 
the  whole  plantation  force  was  up  with  knives  for  killing, 
and  seething  cauldrons  for  scalding,  and  great  doors  for 
scraping,  and  long  racks  for  cooling  the  slaughtered 
swine.  Out  to  the  farmyard  rallied  all  the  farm  hands. 
Into  the  pens  dashed  the  boldest  and  most  active.  Har- 
rowing was  the  squealing  of  the  victims  ;  quick  was  the 
stroke  that  slew  them,  and  quicker  the  sousing  of  the 
dead  hog  into  the  scalding  water ;  busy  the  scraping  of 


FIRST  LESSONS  IN   POLITICS  45 

his  hair  away ;  strong  the  arms  that  bore  him  to  the  beams, 
and  hung  him  there  head  downward  to  cool ;  clumsy  the 
old  woman  who  brought  tubs  to  place  under  him  ;  deft 
the  strong  hands  that  disemboweled  him.  And  so  it  went. 
By  the  time  the  sun  was  risen,  how  bare  and  silent  were 
the  pens  where  hogdom  had  fed  and  grunted  for  so  long 
a  time ! 

How  marvelous  to  youthful  eyes  the  long  rows  of  clean- 
scraped  hogs  upon  the  racks  ;  how  cheerful  the  blazing- 
fires  and  boiling  pots,  and  how  sweet  the  smell  of  the 
hickory  smoking  in  the  cold  air  of  daybreak  ;  how  merry 
and  how  happy  seemed  every  one  upon  the  place,  old  and 
young,  men  and  women,  girls  and  boys,  in  the  midst  of 
this  carnival  of  death  and  grease !  Up  with  the  earliest, 
I  was  one  of  the  busiest  men  in  all  the  company,  —  now 
frying  a  pig-tail  upon  the  blazing  coals  beneath  the  scald- 
ing-pots ;  now  claiming  a  bladder  to  be  blown  up  for 
Christmas ;  now  watching  the  wonderful  process  of  cleans- 
ing, or  lard-making,  or  sausage-grinding.  My !  what  ten- 
derloins and  spare-ribs  were  on  the  breakfast-table  !  my  ! 
how,  for  a  fortnight  after  hog-killing,  what  sausages  and 
cracklin,  and  all  sorts  of  meat,  we  had  !  The  skin  of 
every  darkey  on  the  place  shone  with  hog's  grease,  like 
polished  ebony ;  and  even  Boxer  and  Frolic  grew  so  fat 
they  lost  their  interest  in  rabbit-hunting. 

Then  came  the  lovely  springtime,  when  the  ploughing 
began,  and  I  followed  him  about  the  farm  until  my  poor 
little  legs  were  ready  to  give  way  beneath  me.  And  the 
great  red-breasted  robins  and  purple  grackle  lit  in  the 
new-ploughed  ground,  from  which  such  sweet  aroma  rose. 
And  the  golden  plover,  sweeping  past,  fell  to  father's 
unerring  gun,  I  scrambling  after  them  through  the  crum- 
bling loam. 

Then  followed  the  harvest  time,  when  birds'-nests  and 


46  THE   END  OF  AN  ERA 

young  hares  were  in  the  stubble,  and  when  the  children 
rode  upon  the  straw-loads.  And  the  summer  days,  when 
father  took  me  sailing  in  the  Lucy  Long,  and  sea-trout 
fishing  at  the  lighthouse,  or  built  and  rigged  and  sailed 
for  me  such  boats  as  no  other  boy  ever  had  ! 

After  that  came  the  autumn  time,  when  my  uncle,  a 
famous  Nimrod,  appeared  with  dog  and  gun,  and  taught 
me  the  mysteries  of  quail-shooting,  so  that  I  could  tell 
how  Blanco  the  setter  stood,  and  how  Bembo  the  pointer 
backed,  and  how  Shot  retrieved,  and  talked  about  these 
things  like  a  veteran  sportsman. 

And  there,  also,  was  our  annual  visit,  in  charge  of 
Eliza,  the  white  nurse,  to  our  grandmother  in  far-off  Phil- 
adelphia. This  was  the  period  of  good  behavior  and 
restraint,  neither  of  which  I  always  practiced ;  and,  as  I 
viewed  it,  it  bore  hard  upon  my  other  engagements.  A 
short  city  residence  was  not  altogether  distasteful  to  me  ; 
but  there  were  so  many  horses  to  ride,  and  so  many  boats 
to  sail,  and  so  many  dogs  to  work,  and  so  many  fish  to 
catch,  and  so  many  things  to  do  at  Only,  that  I  looked  on 
the  Philadelphia  trip  as  time  wasted  from  more  entran- 
cing employments.  I  felt  that  I. was  growing  rapidly, 
and  that  there  were  a  great  many  things  which  I  might 
grow  past,  if  I  did  not  keep  going  all  the  while  ;  and  thus 
it  was  that  at  seven  years  old  I  was  regarded  as  what  we 
call  an  enterprising  youth. 

Nor  was  I  too  young  to  detect  that  there  were  marked 
differences  between  methods  of  life  and  thought  at  home, 
and  those  which  prevailed  in  Philadelphia. 

My  mother's  family,  especially  the  dear  old  grand- 
mother, to  whom  my  mother's  death  had  been  a  great 
blow,  were  exceedingly  kind,  and  did  everything  to  make 
the  visits  enjoyable  ;  but  there  was  a  something  in  their 
treatment  of  us  little  orphans  which  approached  to  pat- 


FIRST  LESSONS   IN   POLITICS  47 

ronizing,  and,  young  as  I  was,  my  pride  rebelled  against 
the  idea  that  any  one  could  condescend  towards  us. 

One  day,  when  I  heard  an  aunt  refer  to  me  as  her  "  lit- 
tle savage,"  I  grew  furiously  angry ;  and  another  day, 
when  the  white  servant  referred  to  me  as  a  slave-owner,  I 
let  her  understand  that  I  did  not  own  a  slave  who  was 
not  her  superior  in  every  quality,  good  manners  and 
good  looks  included.  These  were  only  episodes  in  what 
were  otherwise,  on  the  whole,  very  happy  visits;  but, 
young  as  I  was,  I  early  learned  that  between  the  people 
of  my  father's  and  my  mother's  home  there  was  brewing 
a  feeling  of  deep  and  irreconcilable  antagonism,  the  pre- 
cise nature  of  which  I  could  not  altogether  comprehend. 

As  early  as  the  autumn  of  1852, 1  was  made  very  happy 
by  being  sent  to  school.  As  was  the  case  in  almost  every 
section  of  the  South,  the  village  school-teacher  at  Onan- 
cock  was  a  Northern  man.  My  brother  Richard,  three 
years  older  than  myself,  was  my  companion.  We  were 
furnished  with  red-topped  boots,  red  neckerchiefs,  warm 
overcoats,  warm  caps  with  coverings  for  the  ears,  and  tin 
luncheon-pails,  and  never  were  we  more  elated  than  on  our 
first  triumphal  march  to  Onancock,  a  mile  away.  As  we 
passed  the  farmyards  and  the  fields  where  our  old  friends 
the  slaves  were  at  work,  many  were  the  cheery  words 
spoken  to  us. 

"  Dat  's  right,"  said  saucy  Solomon  ;  "  I  spec'  you  '11  be 
as  big  a  man  as  Mars'  Henry  hisself  when  you  is  done 
school." 

"  You  'd  better  not  pass  through  Mr.  Tyler's  yard. 
He  's  got  a  pow'ful  fierce  dog,"  shouted  Joshua. 

And  the  last  thing  said  by  old  George  Douglas,  who 
was  something  of  a  tease,  was,  "  Don't  you  let  none  of 
them  Onancock  boys  lick  you,  for  you  comes  of  fightin' 
stock." 


48  THE  END   OF  AN   ERA 

Thus  began  our  education,  and  a  good  beginning  it 
was  ;  for  we  were  blessed  with  a  conscientious  teacher,  a 
school  at  a  healthy  distance,  and  at  once  entered  the  class 
with  a  red-headed  girl,  clever  as  she  could  be,  with  whom 
I  fell  in  love,  and  who  put  me  to  my  trumps  every  day  to 
keep  her  from  "  cutting  me  down  "  in  the  spelling-class. 

Thus  passed  away  the  happy  days  of  childhood,  —  days 
unlike  those  which  come  to  any  boy  anywhere  nowadays  ; 
days  belonging  to  a  phase  of  civilization  and  a  manner  of 
life  which  are  as  extinct  as  if  they  had  never  existed. 

Yet  in  those  times,  but  nine  years  before  war  and 
emancipation  came,  there  was  no  thought  that  either  was 
near  at  hand.  My  brother  and  I,  on  our  return  from 
school,  were  put  across  the  creek  at  Onancock  wharf. 
One  sunny  evening,  we  found  father  at  old  Captain  Hop- 
kins's store  at  the  wharf,  the  spot  where  the  village  post- 
office  was  kept.  He  had  been  rowed  up  to  the  village  in 
his  yawl,  the  Constitution,  and  was  waiting  to  take  us 
home  with  him.  The  mail  had  just  arrived,  and  an  eager 
throng  was  listening  to  the  news  of  the  presidential  elec- 
tion. The  old  captain  read  the  returns,  which  told  that 
Franklin  Pierce  was  to  be  the  next  President,  and  the 
crowd  cheered  vociferously.  Father  was  called  upon  for 
a  speech,  and  briefly  expressed  his  gratification  at  the  re- 
sult. The  thing  which  most  struck  my  ear  was  father's 
congratulation  of  his  friends  that  the  election  of  Pierce 
set  at  rest  all  fears  as  to  slavery  and  secession,  or  concern- 
ing the  abolitionists.  He  told  how  Pierce,  being  a  North- 
ern man,  must  prove  acceptable  to  the  North  ;  and  how, 
being  sound  upon  the  slavery  question,  his  administration 
would  allay  the  fears  of  the  slave-owner,  and  quiet  the 
threats  of  secessionists.  Everybody  agreed  that  this  was 
so,  and  everybody  hurrahed  for  Pierce  and  King ;  and,  as 
the  Constitution  rushed  homeward  on  the  placid  waters, 


FIRST  LESSONS   IN  POLITICS  49 

under  the  strokes  of  two  sable  oarsmen,  I  puzzled  myself 
to  guess  what  were  the  fears  of  the  slaveholder,  and  what 
were  the  threats  of  the  secessionist,  and  who  were  the 
abolitionists. 

Now,  I  was  a  young  gentleman  who,  when  athirst  for 
knowledge,  held  not  back.  Accordingly,  I  opened  my 
inquiries  in  a  series  of  questions,  and  received  answers 
much  after  the  following  order :  — 

"  What  are  the  fears  of  the  slaveholder  ?  " 

"  Why,  my  son,  there  is  a  small  number  of  fanatics  in 
the  North  who  demand  that  slavery  be  abolished  immedi- 
ately, and  the  slaveholders  are  apprehensive  of  them." 

"  What  is  a  fanatic,  and  what  is  an  abolitionist  ?  " 

"  A  fanatic  is  a  wild  enthusiast,  who  will  listen  to  no- 
thing which  interferes  with  his  demands ;  and  an  abo- 
litionist is  one  who  demands  that  the  slaves  shall  be 
freed." 

"  Are  there  many  people  of  that  kind  in  the  North  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  more  than  we  know  about." 

"  Is  Pierce  that  sort  of  man  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no.     He  is  not  in  favor  of  freeing  the  slaves." 

"  Well,  now  I  know  what  the  slaveholder  fears,  tell  me 
next  what  is  the  threat  of  the  secessionist." 

"  Young  man,  you  listen  too  closely.  Secession  means 
that  a  State,  like  our  Virginia,  being  dissatisfied  with  the 
way  the  Union  is  managed,  would  withdraw  from  the 
Union,  and  establish  an  independent  government  of  her 
own,  or  form  a  new  one  with  other  States  which  withdrew 
with  her.  Secessionists  are  men  who  threaten  to  do 
that." 

I  paused  a  minute,  and  thought  over  all  this ;  then, 
looking  up,  said  :  — ■ 

"  Well,  if  we  secede,  we  shall  not  be  the  United  States 
any  more,  shall  we?" 


50  THE  END   OF  AN   ERA 

"  No." 

"  And  if  we  shall  not  be  the  United  States  any  more, 
we  shall  not  have  the  stars  and  stripes  for  our  flag,  and 
the  Old  Constitution  and  the  Columbia  frigates  won't 
belong  to  us  any  more,  will  they  ?  " 

"  No,  not  if  we  secede." 

"  Well,  now,  papa,  don't  let 's  secede.  No,  sir  ;  don't 
let 's  secede.  You  are  not  for  secession,  are  you,  papa  ? 
Think  of  what  a  horrible  thing  it  would  be  to  give  up  the 
government  grandpa  and  General  Washington  made,  and 
the  flag,  and  the  ships,  and  all  that,  and  start  another 
thing  all  new,  without  any  history  or  anything.  You  are 
not  a  secessionist,  I  know,  because  you  said  you  were  not. 
Are  you,  papa  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  my  boy.  Far  from  it.  Nobody  loves  the 
Union  better  than  I  do.  Nobody  has  better  cause  to  love 
and  honor  and  cherish  it.  I  was  reared  in  the  home  of  a 
grandfather  who  fought  for  it  by  the  side  of  Washington  ; 
I  was  taught  from  my  earliest  infancy  to  venerate  the 
flag  of  the  Union.  My  manhood,  at  home  and  abroad, 
has  been  dedicated  to  its  service ;  and  God  grant  that 
the  Union  may  never  be  rent  asunder  in  my  day  by  the 
fanaticism  of  the  North  or  the  passion  of  the  South. 
Heaven  be  praised,  the  election  of  Mr.  Pierce  seems  to 
put  at  rest  all  fears  on  that  score  from  any  direction." 

We  were  nearing  the  landing.  The  autumn  sun  had 
sunk  into  the  distant  bay.  The  long  shadows  of  the 
grove  at  Only  were  thrown  towards  us  across  the  pooly 
waters.  Earth,  air,  and  sky  were  bathed  in  the  glories 
of  an  Italian  sunset,  as  these  fervid  words  fell  from 
father's  lips  ;  and  never  in  all  his  life  had  he  spoken 
more  eloquently  or  more  truly.  What  he  had  said 
soothed  and  comforted  me,  to  whom  the  thought  of  the 
possibility  that  Virginia  could  be  aught  but  part  of  the 


FIRST  LESSONS  IN  POLITICS  51 

American  Union,  or  that  we  might  lose  the  American 
flag,  had  never  come  before. 

Thus  it  was  that  I  learned  my  first  lesson  in  politics, 
and  was  well  and  firmly  assured  that  that  could  not 
possibly  happen  which  did  actually  happen  within  the 
next  nine  years. 


CHAPTER   V 
THE    KNOW-NOTHING   CAMPAIGN   AND   LIFE   IN  RICHMOND 

During  the  next  three  years,  we  had  things  pretty 
much  our  own  way  at  home,  as  far  as  female  control  was 
concerned.  The  dear  old  aunt  who  presided  over  father's 
household,  although  we  loved  her  very  much,  was  too  in- 
dulgent to  be  a  successful  manager  of  children  ;  and  while 
Eliza,  the  Irish  nurse,  was  firm  and  strong  enough,  we 
were  rapidly  growing  beyond  her  control. 

Then  there  was  my  aunt's  son,  a  most  attractive  fellow, 
just  entering  upon  manhood,  —  a  thorough-paced  child- 
spoiler.  It  was  no  uncommon  thing  for  him  to  take  me 
to  the  county  seat,  or  the  neighboring  villages,  where, 
while  he  pursued  his  amusements,  I  found  companions 
and  playmates  that  were  improving  neither  to  manners 
nor  ideals  of  life.  The  association  was  delightful,  never- 
theless. On  these  excursions,  there  was  no  whim  of  fancy 
which  that  partial  young  relative  was  not  more  than  ready 
to  gratify.  Our  attachment  was  lifelong,  and  in  after 
years  the  deep  and  abiding  interest  of  my  old-bachelor 
cousin  in  all  that  concerned  me  never  abated  until  he  died. 
At  home,  I  had  a  thousand  things  to  make  boyhood  happy. 
With  the  grown-up  slaves  I  was  a  great  favorite ;  and,  as 
was  often  the  case  in  plantation  life,  the  little  darkeys 
near  my  own  age  were  my  playmates  and  companions,  and 
accepted  me  as  their  natural  leader  and  chief.  By  the 
time  I  was  eight  years  old,  I  could  shoot,  and  ride,  and 
fish,  and  swim,  and  sail  a  boat ;  I  had  a  yoke  of  yearling 


THE  KNOW-NOTHING   CAMPAIGN  53 

oxen  broken  by  myself ;  my  own  punt  in  which  to  go  fish- 
ing ;  fishing-lines  and  crab-nets ;  a  dog  and  a  colt ;  and 
had  become  a  breeder  of  most  prolific  chickens.  Nothing 
pleased  me  more  than  dropping  corn  in  planting-time,  or 
hauling  wood  and  straw  with  my  own  team.  For  months 
at  a  time  I  would  go  barefoot,  during  the  summer  season, 
dressed  in  brown  linen  and  a  straw  hat.  All  this  laid  in  a 
store  of  health  and  strength  that  was  of  great  value  in 
after  years.  In  truth,  I  was  a  most  bustling,  energetic  lad, 
with  no  end  of  vitality,  but  lacked  the  parental  govern- 
ment and  care  of  a  mother ;  and  it  was  a  blessed  day  for 
me  when  my  father  married  again. 

My  father's  third  wife  was  a  refined  and  cultivated 
woman,  of  suitable  age,  and  possessed  a  most  lovable  dis- 
position. It  was  not  long  before  she  established  her 
dominion  in  our  household,  —  a  dominion  of  love. 

I  was  taught  to  observe  meal-times ;  to  appear  with 
hair  brushed  and  face  and  hands  washed ;  to  attend  fam- 
ily prayers ;  to  spend  less  time  at  the  negro  quarters ;  to 
account  more  precisely  for  my  nomadic  wanderings  ;  to 
devote  regular  hours  to  studies ;  and  in  many  ways 
to  adopt  much  more  orderly  methods  than  I  had  been 
accustomed  to  pursue  of  late.  All  which  came  in  good 
time,  for  I  was  soon  to  become  a  city  boy. 

In  1855,  a  great  political  contest  occurred  in  Virginia. 
A  faction  known  as  the  Know-Nothing  party,  or  the 
American  party,  had  sprung  up  suddenly,  and  had  tri- 
umphed in  a  number  of  the  Northern  States.  It  was  a, 
secret  organization,  with  oaths  and  grips  and  passwords. 
Its  rallying  cry  was  that  Americans  should  rule  America. 
Incidental  to  this  watchword  was  a  real  or  fancied  hostil- 
ity to  foreigners,  particularly  the  Irish,  and  to  the  Catholic 
Church.  Until  it  reached  Virginia,  it  had  been  success- 
ful  everywhere.      Father  believed   in   the   teachings   of 


54  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

George  Washington  that  secret  political  organizations 
were  dangerous  to  republican  liberty,  and  in  the  teachings 
of  Thomas  Jefferson  that  no  man  should  be  proscribed  on 
account  of  his  religion.  He  maintained  that  neither  Irish- 
men nor  other  foreigners  should  be  oppressed  or  ostracized 
by  reason  of  their  religious  faith  or  their  nationality. 

The  result  of  the  approaching  conflict  seemed  exceed- 
ingly doubtful  when  he  was  chosen  as  the  Democratic 
candidate  for  governor  of  Virginia.  The  circumstances 
of  his  selection  were  not  altogether  flattering  or  hopeful. 
Many  of  his  political  associates  preferred  him  as  the  man 
in  their  opinion  best  fl^  to  make  the  desperate  fight, 
but  there  were  ot'.eis  who  preferred  him  because  they 
believed  the  struggle  was  hopeless  and  secretly  desired 
his  defeat.  He  accepted  the  nomination ;  and  although, 
at  the  outset,  the  Know-Nothing  party  had  an  enrolled 
majority  of  ten  thousand  of  the  entire  voters  of  the  State, 
he  entered  upon  one  of  the  most  remarkable  campaigns 
in  Virginia  politics,  and  after  a  brilliant  canvass  was 
elected  by  ten  thousand  majority. 

It  is  seldom  a  boy  nine  years  old  is  deeply  interested 
in  politics,  but  this  campaign  was  one  that  enlisted  the 
intense  enthusiasm  of  young  and  old. 

In  American  politics,  we  have  recurring  periods  of  po- 
litical "  crazes."  Of  late  years  we  have  witnessed  several 
such.  The  Greenback  craze,  the  Granger  craze,  the 
Silver  craze,  have  each  in  its  turn  arisen,  and,  for  the 
time  being,  made  whole  communities  drunk  with  excite- 
ment. Friends  of  many  years  are  estranged  by  these 
ephemeral  issues.  They  are  carried  into  business,  into 
church,  into  the  household,  everywhere,  until  entire  com- 
monwealths are  so  wrought  up  that  even  women  and  chil- 
dren take  part  until  election  day,  and  after  that  we  bear 
no  more  about  them.     Such  commotions  are  like  brush- 


THE   KNOW-NOTHING   CAMPAIGN  55 

fires,  which,  igniting  instantly,  burn  and  crackle  and  fill 
the  whole  heavens  with  smoke,  as  if  the  world  was  on  fire, 
and  then  die  out  as  suddenly  as  they  sprung  up. 

The  Know-Nothing  craze  of  1855  was  just  such  an  excite- 
ment. Our  community  was  divided  into  factions.  Every- 
body took  sides.  Men  who  had  never  been  known  to  show 
an  active  interest  in  politics  became  intense  partisans,  and 
political  discussion  went  on  everywhere.  One  of  the  first 
results  experienced  by  me  was  a  black  eye  and  a  bloody 
nose,  received  in  a  hard  fight  with  the  son  of  the  village 
blacksmith.  Exactly  how  the  row  began,  neither  of  us 
could  ■clearly  explain;  but  w  ^  on  opposite  sides,  and 

that  was  sufficient.  It  was  a  drawn  tiktt^e,  for  the  black- 
smith interfered,  having  no  intention  of  losing  a  valuable 
trade  by  reason  of  political  differences.  In  the  little  vil- 
lage of  Onancock,  the  rival  organizations  found  vent  for 
their  enthusiasm  by  building  and  flying  two  immense 
kites,  with  the  names  of  their  respective  party  candidates 
emblazoned  on  them  conspicuously.  Many  an  evening, 
after  school  was  dismissed,  I  saw  half  of  the  villagers  of 
the  place  out  on  the  green  flying  their  Know-Nothing  and 
Democratic  kites,  as  if  the  result  depended  upon  which 
flew  the  highest. 

In  due  course  came  election  day.  Father  being  absent, 
the  young  cousin  above  referred  to  represented  him  at 
the  polling-place,  and  took  me  with  him.  In  those  days, 
voting  was  done  openly,  or  viva  voce,  as  it  was  called,  and 
not  by  ballot.  The  election  judges,  who  were  magistrates, 
sat  upon  a  bench  with  their  clerks  before  them.  Where 
practicable,  it  was  customary  for  the  candidate  to  be  pre- 
sent in  person,  and  to  occupy  a  seat  at  the  side  of  the 
judges.  As  the  voter  appeared,  his  name  was  called  out 
in  a  loud  voice.  The  judges  inquired,  "  John  Jones  (or 
Bill  Smith),  for  whom  do  you  vote  ?  "  —  for  governor,  or 


56  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

for  whatever  was  the  office  to  be  filled.  He  replied  by 
proclaiming  the  name  of  his  favorite.  Then  the  clerks 
enrolled  the  vote,  and  the  judges  announced  it  as  enrolled. 
The  representative  of  the  candidate  for  whom  he  voted 
arose,  bowed,  and  thanked  him  aloud ;  and  his  partisans 
often  applauded. 

All  day  long  I  sat  upon  my  cousin's  knee,  or  played 
about  the  platform.  Nobody  smiled  more  broadly,  or 
applauded  more  vigorously,  at  votes  cast  for  father ;  and 
nobody  was  more  silent  or  haughty  when  votes  were  cast 
against  him.  At  sundown,  the  polls  were  closed,  and,  to 
my  infinite  mortification,  the  majority  at  the  precinct  was 
announced  as  in  favor  of  the  Know-Nothings.  The  craze 
had  simply  taken  possession  of  the  place  and  run  away 
with  it.  The  ignorant  and  the  vain  had  all  been  captured 
by  the  signs  and  grips  and  secret  passwords  of  Know- 
Nothingism.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  father  was 
defeated  at  his  home.  I  thought  we  were  done  for. 
When  we  were  safely  bundled  in  the  vehicle,  and  headed 
for  home,  I  felt  like  crying,  and  the  Know-Nothing  cheers 
still  rung  in  my  ears  most  depressingly.  What  mortified 
me  most  of  all  was  the  fact  that  I  knew  of  a  bantering 
compact  between  the  owners  of  the  rival  kites  that  the  vic- 
torious party  should  own  the  kite  of  the  vanquished,  with 
the  privilege  of  flying  it  tailless  and  upside  down.  The 
thought  of  seeing  our  beloved  kite  in  such  ignominious 
plight  nearly  prostrated  me.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the 
result  at  this  precinct  had  been  fully  anticipated  by  the 
grown  folks,  and  gave  them  no  serious  concern  as  to 
the  general  result.  The  Know-Nothing  majority  was 
really  less  than  they  had  claimed.  Seeing  how  I  was 
cast  down,  my  cousin,  holding  me  between  his  legs  in  the 
one-seated  buggy,  endeavored  to  explain  that  there  was  no 
cause  for  alarm.     Long  before  he  finished,  he  discovered 


THE   KNOW-NOTHING  CAMPAIGN  57 

that,  worn  out  by  the  fatigue  and  disappointment  of  the 
day,  I  was  fast  asleep,  and  in  that  condition  he  bore  me 
into  the  house  in  his  arms,  laid  me  on  the  broad  settee  in 
the  hall,  and  covered  me  with  the  lap-robe. 

More  cheering  news  from  other  places  came  thick  and 
fast  in  the  next  few  days,  and  it  was  not  long  before  I 
was  delightedly  watching  the  Know-Nothing  kite  sailed 
tailless  and  upside  down  by  father's  friends. 

Then  came  the  preparations  for  removal  of  our  resi- 
dence to  Richmond  for  four  years. 

No  life  could  have  been  more  in  contrast  with  that  at 
Only  than  the  one  to  which  I  was  now  introduced.  Janu- 
ary 1,  1856,  father  took  the  oath  of  office  as  governor, 
and  we  proceeded  to  establish  ourselves  in  the  Govern- 
ment House,  as  it  was  called. 

It  is  a  fine  old  structure,  simple  in  exterior,  very  capa- 
cious, surrounded  by  pleasant  grounds,  fronting  the  Capi- 
tol Square  at  Richmond.  The  house  at  Only  seemed  like 
a  wren-box  contrasted  with  this  great  residence.  With 
play-grounds,  and  stables,  and  conservatory,  and  out- 
houses, it  was  indeed  a  most  attractive  place.  Young 
gentlemen  nine  years  of  age  are  not  apt  to  underestimate 
their  own  importance  in  such  a  situation,  and  I  was  no 
exception  to  this  rule.  The  legislature  was  in  session  in 
the  Capitol,  and  as  a  large  majority  of  the  members  were 
in  political  sympathy  with  father,  I  received  a  great  deal 
more  attention  and  petting  from  them  than  was  good  for 
me.  My  bump  of  reverence  never  was  over-developed, 
and  under  the  influence  of  this  sort  of  thing,  I  rapidly 
became  very  pert.  But  there  were  other  directions  in 
which  I  did  not  find  life  "  all  beer  and  skittles." 

A  school  was  selected  where,  beside  a  decided  lack  of 
enthusiasm  for  any  school,  I  found  this  particular  one  not 
altogether  a  bed  of  roses.     Being  the  best  school  obtain- 


68  THE   END   OF   AN  ERA 

able,  it  was  attended  by  the  sons  of  the  most  prominent 
people  of  the  place.  And  therein  lay  the  trouble.  If 
their  fathers'  views  had  controlled  the  election  of  gov- 
ernor, our  residence  at  Only  would  have  been  undisturbed. 
The  city  was  the  stronghold  of  Know-Nothingism  in  Vir- 
ginia. In  a  vote  of  nearly  four  thousand,  father  had  not 
received  exceeding  nine  hundred  votes,  and  they  were  for 
the  most  part  from  the  humbler  classes.  The  Richmond 
Democrats  were  so  few  in  numbers  that  they  were  called 
the  "  Spartan  Band."  The  rural  votes  gave  father  his 
majority,  especially  in  the  splendid  yeomanry  of  the 
Shenandoah  Valley,  among  whom  very  few  slaves  were 
owned.  They  were  the  men  who  afterwards,  drawn  into 
the  war  to  fight  the  slave-owners'  battles,  won  with  their 
valor  the  immortal  fame  of  Stonewall  Jackson. 

Father  had  notions  about  manhood  suffrage,  public 
schools,  the  education  and  the  elevation  of  the  masses, 
and  the  gradual  emancipation  of  the  slaves,  that  did  not 
suit  the  uncompromising  views  of  people  in  places  like 
Richmond.  It  was  the  abode  of  that  class  who  proclaimed 
that  they  were  Whigs,  and  that  "  Whigs  knew  each  other 
by  the  instincts  of  gentlemen."  The  slave  market  was  a 
flourishing  institution  in  Richmond,  fully  countenanced  if 
not  approved  and  defended.  The  majority  of  Richmond 
people  hated  the  name  of  Democracy,  and,  almost  always 
defeated  by  it,  were  willing  to  unite  with  the  Know-No- 
things  or  any  other  party  to  defeat  their  enemy  the 
Democracy. 

At  school,  I  very  soon  discovered  that  the  Richmond 
city  boys  were  disposed  to  turn  up  their  noses  at  me,  not 
only  as  a  country  boy,  but  because  I  was  my  father's  son. 
I  had  several  fistic  encounters  with  them,  and  after  that, 
things  went  on  more  smoothly,  but  not  very  pleasantly. 

There  never  was  such  a  place  as  Richmond  for  fighting 


THE   KNOW-NOTHING  CAMPAIGN  59 

among  small  boys.  The  city  is  built  over  a  number  of 
hills  and  valleys,  and  in  those  days  the  boys  of  particular 
localities  associated  in  fighting  bands,  and  called  them- 
selves Cats.  Thus  there  were  the  Shockoe  Hill  Cats,  the 
Church  Hill  Cats,  the  Basin  Cats,  the  Oregon  Hill  Cats, 
the  Navy  Hill  Cats,  etc. 

About  this  time  we  were  seized  with  the  military  fever. 
In  those  days,  the  State  of  Virginia  had  a  large  armory 
at  Richmond,  and  a  standing  army  of  a  hundred  men ! 
The  command  was  known  as  the  "  Public  Guard,"  but 
the  Richmond  boys  called  them  the  "  Blind  Pigs."  The 
syllogism  by  which  this  name  was  reached  was  unanswer- 
able. They  wore  on  their  hats  the  letters  P.  G.,  which 
certainly  is  P  I  G  without  the  I.  And  a  pig  without  an 
eye  is  a  blind  pig.     QED. 

The  public  guard  was  as  well  drilled  and  cared  for 
as  any  body  of  regulars  in  the  United  States  army.  It 
guarded  the  penitentiary  and  public  grounds,  and  was  a 
most  valuable  organization  in  many  ways. 

Captain  Dimmock,  commanding  officer,  was  a  West 
Pointer,  I  think,  and  the  beau  ideal  of  a  soldier.  His  son 
Marion  and  my  brother,  three  years  my  senior,  conceived 
the  idea  of  forming  a  boy's  soldier  company.  Father  en- 
couraged the  idea,  and  caused  a  hundred  old  muskets  in 
the  armory  to  be  cut  down  to  the  proper  size  for  boys. 
Captain  Dimmock  entered  heartily  into  the  scheme.  The 
boys  were  drilled  assiduously.  Their  uniform  was  neat 
cadet  gray ;  and  for  several  years  the  "  Guard  of  the 
Metropolis  "  was  one  of  the  most  striking  institutions  of 
Richmond.  It  always  paraded  with  the  Public  Guard, 
and  the  precision  of  its  drill  astonished  and  delighted  all 
beholders.  Seven  years  later,  William  Johnson  Pegram, 
the  first  lieutenant  of  that  company,  attained  the  rank  of 
brigadier-general  in  Lee's  army  before  he  was  twenty-one 


60  THE   END   OF  AN  ERA 

years  old,  and  although  killed  in  battle,  is  still  remem- 
bered as  one  of  the  bravest  and  most  brilliant  artillery 
commanders  of  the  civil  war.  Many  other  members  were 
utilized  as  drill-masters  at  the  outbreak  of  the  war,  and 
subsequently  became  excellent  officers. 

Too  young  to  carry  a  musket,  I  was  made  marker  of 
this  famous  company,  and  was  as  proud  of  my  uniform 
and  little  marker's  flag  as  a  Frenchman  of  the  Cross  of 
the  Legion  of  Honor. 


CHAPTER   VI 

BEHIND   THE    SCENES 

The  present  generation  finds  it  difficult  to  realize  the 
position  in  the  Union  occupied  by  Virginia,  even  as  late 
as  1856-60,  to  which  period  our  narrative  now  brings  us. 
People  recall,  in  a  general  way,  that  Virginia  was  once 
the  theatre  of  many  historic  events  ;  that  she  gave  birth 
to  many  great  men  in  the  early  days  of  the  Republic ;  and 
that  she  was  the  chief  battle-ground  in  the  civil  war. 

A  romantic  interest  attaches  to  her  in  consequence,  and 
there  is  a  certain  tenderness  for  Virginia  felt  towards 
no  other  State,  even  in  sections  which  were  once  arrayed 
against  her. 

But  from  many  causes,  a  decline  in  her  social  and  polit- 
ical importance  has  occurred  within  the  last  forty  years, 
which,  in  its  rapidity  and  in  its  extent,  presents  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  instances  in  history.  Let  us  not  stamp 
it  as  degeneracy.  The  day  when  she  produced  men  of  the 
type  of  Lee  and  Jackson  is  too  recent  to  justify  despair. 

It  is  made  doubly  difficult  to  judge  her  by  the  charac- 
ter of  the  writings  concerning  her.  On  the  one  hand,  we 
have  extravagant  eulogiums  and  fond  laments  of  those 
who  laud  her  old-time  history  and  people,  and  admit  no 
defects  in  them  ;  on  the  other,  the  always  unfair  and 
often  ignorant  denunciations  of  the  anti-slavery  folk,  who 
are  unwilling  to  admit,  even  at  this  late  day,  that  any 
good  could  come  out  of  the  Nazareth  of  slavery.  Both 
are  wide  of  the  mark.     The  social  and  economic  condi- 


62  THE  END   OF  AN  ERA 

tions  of  Virginia  were  neither  Utopian,  as  the  one  loves  to 
depict,  nor  bad  and  vicious,  as  the  other  would  represent 
them. 

It  is  undeniably  true  that,  between  the  two  extremes  of 
society,  as  it  existed  there  prior  to  1865,  was  an  awful 
gulf,  upon  one  side  of  which  were  green  pastures  and 
still  waters,  and  on  the  other  noisome  bogs  filled  with 
creeping  reptiles.  It  was  a  condition  incompatible  with 
every  theory  of  republican  equality  among  men,  and  be- 
yond question  repugnant  to  the  ideas  and  sensibilities  of 
free  communities. 

Whether  what  has  followed  will  ultimately  result  in  a 
better  civilization  is  as  yet  far  from  settled  ;  but  whether 
for  better  or  for  worse,  it  is  certain  that  a  social,  eco- 
nomic, and  political  earthquake,  never  surpassed  in  sud- 
denness and  destructive  force,  burst  upon  that  people, 
working  changes  that  have  left  little  trace  of  what  was 
there  before. 

If  the  Virginian  who  died  forty  years  ago  could  revisit 
his  native  commonwealth,  he  would  find  it  difficult  to 
recognize  the  place  where  he  lived.  If  he  located  it  by 
the  streams  which  still  flow  to  the  sea,  and  the  moun- 
tains still  standing  as  sentinels  through  the  centuries,  he 
would  soon  learn,  even  concerning  these,  that  many  are 
no  longer  landmarks  of  Virginia,  but,  snatched  from  her 
in  the  hour  of  her  weakness  against  her  will,  are  now 
possessions  of  an  alien  State.  For  the  less  enduring 
things,  —  for  men  such  as  he  knew,  for  their  very  habi- 
tations, their  mode  of  life,  the  fashion  of  thought  of  his 
day,  for  its  wealth,  its  refinement,  its  culture,  for  its  lofty 
incorruptibility  and  high-mindedness,  —  he  would  search 
sadly  and  in  vain. 

In  the  day  of  which  I  write,  Virginia,  among  the  States 
of  the  Union,  was,  in  territorial  area,  second   only   to 


BEHIND   THE   SCENES  63 

Texas.  Her  western  boundary  was  the  Ohio  River ;  north- 
ward, her  Panhandle  projected  high  up  between  Ohio  and 
Pennsylvania.  Her  wealth  made  her  credit  at  home  and 
abroad  above  question.  Her  bonds  sold  higher  in  New 
York  and  London  than  those  of  the  federal  government. 
Her  political  importance  placed  her  sons  in  commanding 
positions  in  the  cabinet,  on  the  bench,  and  as  representa- 
tives to  many  important  foreign  governments.  In  every 
national  assemblage  her  voice  was  hearkened  to  as  that  of 
a  potent  and  conservative  and  reliable  guide. 

Richmond  was  admittedly  the  centre  of  a  society  unsur- 
passed in  all  America  for  wealth,  refinement,  and  culture. 
Nearly  every  distinguished  foreigner  felt  that  his  view  of 
America  was  incomplete  unless  he  spent  some  time  in  the 
capitol  of  the  Mother  of  States  and  Statesmen.  Soldiers, 
authors,  sculptors,  artists,  actors,  and  statesmen  sought 
Richmond  then  as  surely  as  to-day  they  visit  New  York 
and  Boston. 

The  actual  population  of  the  city  was  small.  It  is  diffi- 
cult to  realize  that  in  1860  Richmond  had  but  thirty-eight 
thousand  inhabitants.  But  the  truth  is,  that  its  real  con- 
stituency was  much  greater ;  for  it  was  the  assembling- 
point  of  a  large  class  of  wealthy  persons  who  resided  on 
their  plantations  upon  the  upper  and  lower  James,  and  in 
Piedmont,  Tidewater,  and  the  South  Side. 

It  is  not  uncommon  nowadays  to  see  references  to 
Southern  society  of  that  period  as  uncultured,  and  rather 
sensual  than  intellectual  in  its  tastes.  This  historic  false- 
hood, like  many  others  assiduously  told  for  a  long  time, 
may  find  permanent  lodgment  in  the  belief  of  the  future. 
No  statement  was  ever  more  unjust.  With  inherited 
wealth,  with  abundant  leisure,  with  desire  to  excel  in 
directing  thought,  and  to  attain  that  command  of  men 
which  knowledge  affords,  with  an  innate  passion  for  ora- 


64  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

tory,  a  thorough  education  was  the  natural  ambition  of  a 
Virginia  gentleman.  True,  his  efforts  were  not  directed 
towards  acquiring  practical  or  scientific  knowledge  ;  for 
these  were  in  those  days  possessed,  for  the  most  part,  by 
men  who  expected  to  apply  them  to  earning  a  livelihood. 
But  in  education  in  the  classics,  in  the  study  of  ancient 
and  modern  languages,  in  history,  in  philosophy  moral 
and  political,  in  the  study  of  the  science  of  government, 
in  the  learned  professions,  no  men  in  America  were  better 
equipped  than  the  wealthy  Southerners  of  that  period. 

It  is  true,  there  was  no  public-school  system,  and  the 
reason  for  it  was  very  plain.  The  wealth  of  the  upper 
classes  enabled  them  to  have  private  tutors.  The  paucity 
in  numbers  of  the  lower  classes  of  the  whites,  and  the  dis- 
tances at  which  they  lived  apart,  rendered  public  schools 
impracticable  for  them.  Education  of  the  blacks  was, 
of  course,  contrary  to  all  ideas  of  slavery.  Suppose  we 
depended  upon  the  wealthy  to  inaugurate  public  schools, 
—  how  many  should  we  have  ?  Yet  nobody  suspects  that 
they  are  indifferent  to  education.  The  best  proof  of  the 
care  of  the  slaveholding  Southerner  for  education  maybe 
found  in  the  lives  of  distinguished  Northern  men  who 
grew  up  fifty  years  ago.  In  many  instances,  they  record 
the  fact  that  their  first  employments  were  as  tutors  in 
wealthy  Southern  families.  The  private  libraries  of  Vir- 
ginia destroyed  in  the  war,  or  burned  in  the  old  Virginia 
homesteads,  would  have  filled  every  public  library  in  the 
North  to  overflowing.  Every  current  periodical  and  pub- 
lication of  that  day,  American  and  foreign,  was  upon  the 
library  table  of  the  Virginian  not  later  than  it  was  in 
the  Northern  readingr-room. 

Conversation  at  social  gatherings  did  not  run  to  games 
and  sports,  and  dress  and  dissipations,  and  gossip  and 
amusements,  but  to  the  great  events  of  the  day,  to  the 


BEHIND   THE   SCENES  65 

latest  productions  in  literature  and  art,  and  to  things 
worthy  of  man's  noblest  thought  and  discussion.  It  is  an 
insult  to  the  memory  of  those  most  intellectual  people  to 
describe  the  men  as  a  breed  of  swearing,  drinking,  and 
gambling  fox-hunters,  and  the  women  as  pampered,  candy- 
eating  dolls.  The  per  cent,  of  youth  educated  at  foreign 
universities  was  greater  in  proportion  to  white  population, 
at  the  outbreak  of  the  war,  in  Virginia  than  in  Massa- 
chusetts. This  was  natural,  in  view  of  the  greater  indi- 
vidual wealth. 

It  is  true  that  every  enterprise  dependent  upon  what 
is  known  as  public  spirit,  or  originating  in  the  demand 
or  desire  of  common  use,  was  sadly  lacking.  Wealthy 
people  seldom  cooperate.  Each  buys,  for  private  use, 
things  which  all  might  well  use  in  common  if  the  price 
was  an  important  consideration  ;  and  none,  perhaps,  have 
as  much,  or  as  good,  as  all  might  more  cheaply  obtain  if 
they  acted  conjointly. 

In  times  of  slavery,  there  never  was  a  decent  hotel  or 
public  livery  in  the  South.  The  private  establishments 
were  so  large  that  their  hospitality  was  deadly  to  the  suc- 
cess of  public  houses,  or  other  provision  for  the  public 
comfort.  Of  a  thousand  or  two  thousand  visitors  to  the 
city  of  Richmond,  not  one  hundred  would  seek  public 
accommodation.  They  either  had  town  residences  of  their 
own,  or  were  taken  in  charge  by  friends  and  relatives  as 
soon  as  they  reached  the  city.  Everybody  was  kin  to 
everybody.  Visitors  were  ushered  into  vacant  chambers 
that  were  already  yearning  for  them,  attended  by  the  ser- 
vants that  were  idle  in  their  absence,  furnished  with  equi- 
pages and  horses  that  needed  use  and  work,  and  fed  of  an 
abundance  that  had  been  wasted  before  they  came.  All 
this  was  repaid  by  their  mere  presence,  which  banished 
ennui,  in  those  days  when  public  amusements  were  rare 
and  inferior. 


CG  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

The  domestic  luxury  and  comfort  of  these  people  was 
all  that  heart  could  wish  for.  Their  houses  were  fur- 
nished sumptuously  in  every  detail.  From  drawing-room 
to  chamber,  everything  was  provided  which  wealth  could 
wish.  Mahogany,  rare  china  and  glass  ware,  massive 
silver,  and  the  choicest  of  damask  and  linen  were  found 
in  the  dining-room,  which  was  an  important  feature  of 
every  home.  But  there  was  a  singular  lack  of  the  elabo- 
rate ornamentation  and  gilding  so  prevalent  at  present. 
The  servants  were  in  numbers,  in  thorough  knowledge  of 
their  duties,  in  considerate  care  of  their  guests,  and  in 
respectful  deference  to  their  superiors,  such  as  never  were 
surpassed  anywhere,  and  such  as  are  now  found  on  no 
portion  of  the  earth's  surface,  unless,  perhaps,  it  be  in 
England.  The  Virginia  cook  and  the  Virginia  cooking 
of  that  time  were  the  full  realization  of  the  dreams  of 
epicures  for  centuries.  They  also  have  passed  away,  like 
many  of  those  precious  gifts  which  are  too  delightful  to  be 
of  long  continuance.  The  dress  of  the  period  was,  con- 
sidering the  opulence  of  the  people,  remarkable  for  its 
simplicity.  Of  diamonds  and  precious  stones  and  jew- 
elry there  was  abundance,  and  they  of  the  most  costly 
kind,  and  in  quality  the  costumes  of  the  women  were  of 
the  best ;  but  neither  in  number  nor  in  extravagance  of 
make-up  was  there  any  such  display,  especially  in  public, 
as  later  times  have  developed. 

Male  attire  was  exceedingly  simple.  As  late  as  1858, 
several  of  the  old  gentlemen  wore  the  queues  we  see  in 
pictures  of  Washington  and  his  contemporaries,  but  those 
instances  were  exceedingly  rare.  Among  elderly  men,  no 
such  thing  as  a  beard  was  admissible.  The  clean-shaven 
face  was  almost  without  exception.  Young  dandies  began 
to  wear  hirsute  adornments  about  the  time  Ned  Sothern 
appeared  in  "  Our  American  Cousin,"  and  made  "  Lord 


BEHIND   THE   SCENES  .67 

Dundreary  "  side-whiskers  the  fashionable  fad.  Elderly 
gentlemen  wore  broadcloth,  with  tall  silk  hats,  high  stand- 
ing collars,  and  white  or  black  stocks.  This  was  varied 
among  country  gentlemen  by  broad  slouch  hats  of  felt  or 
straw,  and  expansive  white  or  nankeen  waistcoats.  Dur- 
ing the  heated  term,  a  fashionable  attire  was  an  entire 
outfit  of  white  or  brown  linen  duck. 

Until  the  year  1858,  there  was  little  difference  between 
the  costumes  of  old  and  young  men,  except  in  neckwear. 
Among  youngsters,  colored  cravats  were  worn.  About 
that  year  came,  among  the  ultra  fashionables,  a  remark- 
able outfit,  consisting  of  short,  double-breasted  reefing 
jackets,  trousers  immense  at  the  hips  and  tapering  to  the 
ankles,  Scotch  caps,  and  "  Dundreary  "  whiskers.  But  a 
country  youth  would  have  scorned  such  wild  imaginings 
of  tailors.  A  city  man  thus  equipped,  walking  beside  a 
woman  in  hoops  and  a  broad-faced  bonnet,  would  give 
Fifth  Avenue  a  genuine  sensation  if  he  reappeared  to- 
day. 

The  private  equipages  were  handsome.  Rogers,  of  Phil- 
adelphia, and  Brewster,  of  New  York,  built  nearly  all  of 
the  carriages  in  use  among  the  Virginians,  and  the  horses 
were  Virginia  or  Kentucky  thoroughbreds.  There  was 
rivalry  to  possess  the  handsomest  teams,  and  the  equi- 
pages on  Franklin  Street  compared  favorably,  in  number 
and  style,  with  those  in  any  city  in  this  country.  One 
remarkable  old  lady,  a  Mrs.  Cabell,  had  a  vehicle  swing- 
ing upon  immense  C-springs,  drawn  by  large  Andalusian 
mules  of  her  own  importation,  with  liveried  coachman  and 
footmen.  But  that  was  never  adopted  as  a  model.  Even 
at  that  late  day,  a  few  people  drove  to  the  White  Sulphur 
in  their  private  vehicles,  and  a  drive  of  forty  miles  to  visit 
friends  in  the  country  was  a  mere  episode.  The  socia- 
bility of  the  period  was  great. 


68  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

Concerning  the  mode  of  life,  there  were  but  two  impor- 
tant meals  daily.  Breakfast,  except  for  business  people  or 
schoolchildren,  was  rather  late.  Morning  visiting  among 
the  ladies  was  from  one  o'clock  until  three  P.  M.  The 
dining  hour  was  generally  at  three  P.  M.  From  dinner 
time  until  about  7.30  P.  M.  came  a  leisure  period  for 
driving  ;  and  then  an  informal  repast,  consisting  of  tea, 
coffee,  chocolate,  biscuits,  sandwiches,  and  light  cakes, 
served  in  the  drawing-rooms.  At  this  hour  the  family,  its 
guests  and  visitors,  were  generally  assembled  in  their  best 
dress.  The  meal,  if  such  a  light  repast  could  be  so  desig- 
nated, was  served  by  butlers  bearing  great  trays.  Every 
drawing-room  had  its  "  nest "  of  tiny  tables  on  which 
to  place  the  plates  and  cups.  The  repast  did  not  even 
interrupt  the  flow  of  conversation.  In  pleasant  weather, 
many  of  the  guests  sat  upon  the  porticoes  and  were  served 
there.  This  was  the  time  when  young  folks,  male  and 
female,  interchanged  visits. 

Music,  vocal  and  instrumental,  and  dancing  varied  the 
enjoyment  of  those  charming  evenings.  The  wit  of  the 
time  was  brilliant  and  refined.  There  was  Littleton 
Tazewell,  remembered  as  having  declined  a  proffered  cup 
of  tea  by  dryly  saying :  "  No,  thank  you,  I  would  be  azwell 
without  the  T."  There  was  Tom  August,  whose  wit  was 
like  Sheridan's.  He  it  was  who  refused  to  bet  on  the 
great  four-mile  race  between  "  Red  Eye  "  and  "  Revenue  " 
because,  as  he  said,  the  result  was  already  certain.  When 
asked  why  it  was  certain,  he  replied,  "  The  first  legal 
maxim  I  ever  learned  was,  '  Id  certum  est,  quod  certum 
Reddi  potest.'  "  On  another  occasion,  responding  to  the 
frightened  inquiry,  "  Who  is  that  ? "  when  a  neighbor 
heard  him  falling  downstairs,  he  promptly  replied,  "  'T  is 
I,  sir,  rolling  rapidly."  Sweet  Tom  August,  —  courtly 
to  dames,  loving  to  friends,  brave  in  war,  brilliant  at  the 


BEHIND  THE  SCENES  69 

bar,  gentle  and  loving  to  the  last,  —  green  be  the  grave 
that  covers  thee !  Dying  July  31st,  he  laughed,  an  hour 
before  he  died,  and  remarked,  "  For  once,  the  first  and 
last  of  August  have  come  together." 

And  then  there  was  mincing  and  primping  John  R. 
Thompson,  the  poet,  and  young  Price,  now  a  grave  pro- 
fessor of  Columbia,  and  handsome,  dashing  Willie  Mun- 
ford,  to-day  a  white-haired  minister  ;  and  Jennings  Wise, 
and  Brandfute  Warwick,  and  John  Pegram,  —  the  last 
three  dead  in  the  battle  front  before  five  years  had  rolled 
by.  And  there  were  young  Randolph  Barksdale  and 
Randolph  Harrison,  twin  Apollo  Belvideres  in  youthful 
beauty.  And  red-faced  George  Pickett,  in  his  army 
clothes,  before  Gettysburg  immortalized  him,  leading 
his  charming  petite  sister  to  the  piano  to  flood  the  house 
with  melody  like  that  of  the  mocking-bird.  There,  too, 
was  the  brilliant  Lucy  Haxall,  whose  exuberant  wit  made 
all  the  welkin  ring ;  and  sweet  Mary  Power  Lyons,  who 
made  men  better  for  beholding  such  exquisite  refinement 
and  maidenly  beauty ;  and  the  rich  Penn  heiress  from 
New  Orleans ;  and  the  gentle  Morsons  ;  and  Pages  and 
Carters  and  Lees  by  the  score. 

In  the  quiet  corners  sat  matrons  smiling  on  this  scene 
of  pleasure,  —  Dame  Scott,  of  Fauquier,  with  her  great 
white  turban,  her  intellectual  face  looking  like  a  queen's ; 
Mrs.  Judge  Stanard,  handsome  and  charming;  Mrs. 
James  Lyons,  young  and  beautiful  as  the  most  blushing 
debutante  ;  stately  Mrs.  Fowle,  of  Alexandria,  and,  by 
her  side,  hospitable  Mrs.  McFarland,  and  beautiful  and 
accomplished  Mrs.  Seddon,  of  Goochland.  Last,  but 
by  no  means  least,  were  the  middle-aged  and  elderly 
representative  men  of  the  city  and  State,  engaged  in 
courteous  attention  to  the  ladies,  or  grouped  in  drawing- 
room,  library,  or  veranda,  discussing  the  living  issues  of 


70  THE   END   OF  AN  ERA 

the  times.  There  was  James  Lyons,  one  of  the  leaders 
of  the  Virginia  bar,  the  handsomest  man  of  his  day ;  and 
noble-looking  John  B.  Young,  who,  in  the  forefront  of 
his  profession,  still  found  time  to  read  Dickens  until 
he  was  a  walking  encyclopaedia  of  Dickens's  wit ;  and 
William  H.  McFarland,  Richmond's  king  of  hospitality, 
portly  and  imposing,  in  ruffled  shirt  and  spotless  black ; 
and  Judge  Robert  Stanard,  whose  very  presence  was 
suggestive  not  only  of  the  bench,  but  of  a  certain  weak- 
ness he  had  for  whist  and  "  Lou  "  and  "  Bragg  ;  "  and 
George  W.  Randolph  and  Roscoe  B.  Heath,  the  rising 
men  of  the  bar  ;  and  the  Reverends  Joshua  Peterkin  and 
Charles  Minnegerode,  spiritual  doctors ;  and  Doctors 
Deane  and  Haxall,  doctors  of  the  flesh,  —  all  mingling  in 
most  delightful  and  refined  exchange  of  courtesy  and 
thought. 

Once  or  twice  a  week  the  public  band  played  in  the 
Capitol  grounds.  The  park  was  illuminated.  The  citi- 
zens generally  promenaded  up  and  down  the  great  parade 
and  enjoyed  the  music.  Our  home  was  opened  on  such 
occasions  to  father's  friends,  and  with  clean-washed  face 
and  most  approved  attire,  I  flitted  in  and  out :  now  petted 
in  the  drawing-room  ;  now  stealing  away  with  a  biscuit  or 
a  cake  for  some  little  pet  darkey ;  now  out  in  the  public 
square  with  my  boy  acquaintances. 

School  occupied  our  mornings,  and  three  afternoons  of 
the  week  were  allotted  to  our  French.  "When  older,  I 
should  never  have  begrudged  that  time  to  so  charming  a 
companion  as  Mile.  Vassas,  the  institutrice,  but  we  looked 
upon  her  then  as  our  natural  enemy.  Afternoons  and 
Saturdays  were  left  to  us  to  indulge  in  boyish  diversions. 
At  first,  these  were  harmless  and  domestic  enough.  In  the 
spacious  grounds  about  the  Government  House,  we  had 
pet  pigeons,  tame  squirrels,  a  rabbit-warren,  an  improvised 


BEHIND   THE   SCENES  71 

gymnasium,  and  other  things  to  make  home  happy.  Old 
Harry,  our  slave  coachman,  often  accompanied  us  on 
horseback  rides ;  and  the  boys  of  our  acquaintance  were 
glad  to  avail  themselves  of  the  attractions  at  our  home. 
We  were  warned  against  playing  in  the  streets,  or  wan- 
dering into  other  portions  of  the  city,  and  for  a  long  time 
obeyed  such  commands  very  well.  But  in  time,  I  found 
many  excuses  for  absence.  Between  the  visits  to  the 
state  barracks,  where  our  soldier  company  drilled,  and  to 
the  Penitentiary,  where  ingenious  convicts,  without  regu- 
lar employments,  built  us  boats,  and  engines,  and  cannon, 
and  wagons,  and  all  sorts  of  toys,  there  were  always  plau- 
sible excuses  for  frequent  and  long  absences,  the  real 
nature  of  which  were  never  very  closely  investigated. 

Then  came  the  excitement  of  another  presidential 
election.  I  hear  you  exclaim,  "  Now  what  possible  inter- 
est could  a  presidential  election  possess  for  a  boy  ten 
years  old  ?  "  You  ask  that  question  because  you  do  not 
know  the  society  I  am  describing.  Not  a  day  passed  that 
I  did  not  hear  something  about  the  dangerous  condition 
of  the  political  situation.  Long  before  James  Buchanan 
was  nominated  by  the  Democrats,  I  knew  that  Stephen 
A.  Douglas,  "  the  little  giant,"  with  his  views  of  squatter 
sovereignty,  could  not  command  the  vote  of  the  South- 
ern Democracy.  Father  was  a  warm  supporter  of  Mr. 
Buchanan  as  the  representative  of  the  conservative  element 
of  Democracy.  Accordingly,  when  Buchanan  was  nomi- 
nated, largely  through  the  influence  of  the  Virginians, 
I  felt  a  personal  interest  in  the  success  of  "Buck  and 
Breck,"  and  was  their  avowed  advocate  in  all  places. 
Richmond  was  still  unreconciled  to  Democracy ;  and  the 
American  ticket,  headed  by  ex-President  Fillmore  and 
Andrew  Jackson  Don  el  son,  was  a  hot  favorite  in  Vir- 
ginia's capital.     As  for  the  new  and  third  party,  known 


72  THE   END   OF   AN  ERA 

as  Republican  and  led  by  Fremont  and  Dayton,  it  literally 
had  no  following  there.  Out  of  the  160,000  votes  cast  in 
Virginia  in  the  presidential  election  of  1856,  only  1800 
votes  were  cast  for  the  Republicans,  and  they  were  nearly 
all  cast  in  the  Panhandle. 

But  the  supporters  of  Buchanan  and  of  Fillmore  made 
a  great  noise  in  Richmond.  They  were  united  in  ridicul- 
ing Fremont,  but  divided  in  all  else.  Nearly  every  night, 
open-air  political  speaking  took  place,  with  parades,  ban- 
ners, red  lights,  and  bands  of  music,  and  great  orators  vis- 
ited the  city.  From  these,  and  from  the  political  cartoons, 
which  were  very  plentiful,  I  learned  a  great  deal  about 
Buchanan  and  Breckinridge,  and  about  Fillmore  and 
Donelson  ;  but  I  was  led  to  regard  the  candidacy  of  Fre- 
mont as  a  political  farce,  and  chiefly  heard  of  him  as 
finding  woolly  horses  in  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  running 
away  with  Jessie  Benton,  daughter  of  Missouri's  great 
senator.  I  did  not  realize  that,  although  the  storm  of 
abolition  had  not  yet  assumed  full  force,  it  was  rapidly 
gathering,  with  its  centre  in  this  Republican  ticket ;  nor 
appreciate  that,  in  many  Northern  States,  Fremont  was 
drawing  to  his  support  a  great  following,  which,  with  its 
"  wide-awake  "  processions  and  other  demonstrations, 
excited  an  enthusiasm  not  seen  in  politics  since  the  time 
of  "  Tippecanoe  and  Tyler  too."  Even  when  the  election 
occurred  and  Buchanan  was  chosen,  I  did  not  know  that 
the  real  battle  had  been  between  Buchanan  and  Fremont, 
and  that,  for  the  first  time,  a  solid  North  had  been  arrayed 
politically  against  a  solid  South. 

No  ;  however  seriously  a  scrutiny  of  the  returns  may 
have  affected  older  and  more  thoughtful  people,  young 
folks,  and  many  older  folks  than  I,  looked  only  at  the 
results,  and  regarded  the  election  of  Buchanan  as  once 
more   putting  at   rest  the  plans  of   the    abolitionist  and 


BEHIND   THE   SCENES  73 

the  fears  of  the  slaveholder.  Little  did  I  foresee  that 
within  eight  years  from  the  time  I  was  hurrahing  for 
"  Buck  and  Breck,"  I  should  be  led  in  battle  by  Breck 
in  an  assault  on  Buck,  and  upon  everything  that  Buck 
and  Breck  stood  for  in  the  great  election  of  1856. 

The  result  of  the  election  of  1856  gave  great  satis- 
faction at  our  home.  In  the  year  1857,  passing  through 
Washington  on  our  return  from  the  annual  visit  to  Phi- 
ladelphia, I  had  the  distinguished  honor  of  visiting  a 
President  for  the  first  time.  In  company  with  a  friend 
of  father's,  we  children  were  taken  to  the  White  House. 
The  President  was  a  charming  old  gentleman,  of  very 
distinguished  appearance.  His  greeting  was  cordial  and 
simple.  I  looked  him  over  carefully,  and  wondered  why 
he  had  one  hazel  and  one  blue  eye,  and  why  he  had  never 
married.  Then  I  reflected  that  perhaps  that  was  the  real 
reason,  for  the  dear  old  fellow  seemed  exceedingly  fond  of 
children,  and  perhaps,  after  all,  would  have  had  a  wife 
and  children,  if  he  could  have  found  a  lady  who  would  be 
content  with  a  pair  of  misfit  eyes.  Very  sweet  and  tender 
eyes  they  were,  however.  After  looking  through  the 
President's  conservatory  and  receiving  some  pretty  flowers, 
and  eating  a  fine  piece  of  President's  cake,  and  being  in- 
trusted with  some  kind  messages  for  father,  we  felt  that 
we  had  not  made  any  mistake  in  supporting  Buchanan 
for  President. 

Soon  after  this,  we  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  an 
eminent  representative  of  the  other  side  in  politics.  Per- 
sonal animosities  did  not  enter  so  largely  into  politics  in 
those  days  as  they  do  now,  although  the  stakes  of  the  po- 
litical game  were  greater,  and  the  issues  really  more  vital. 

An  abolitionist  in  the  abstract,  as  conceived  by  us, 
under  the  teachings  surrounding  us,  was  a  very  frightful 
creature.     We  had  heard  much  of  past  negro  insurrec- 


74  THE   END   OF   AN  ERA 

tions  inspired  by  secret  Northern  emissaries.  It  was  part 
of  my  early  education  to  learn  of  a  fearful  massacre,  led 
by  a  desperate  negro  named  Nat  Turner,  in  the  county  of 
Southampton,  a  few  years  before  I  was  born.  I  had  been 
taught  to  believe  that  Nat  Turner  and  his  deluded  follow- 
ers had  really  had  no  cause  of  grievance,  but  that  secret 
abolition  emissaries  had  gone  among  them,  and  with  devil- 
ish malignity  had  stimulated  them  to  rise  in  the  night,  and 
put  to  death  a  number  of  innocent  people  who  had  been 
good  to  them  all  their  lives,  to  whom  they  owed  every  debt 
of  gratitude  for  becoming  their  masters  here  and  making 
Christians  of  them,  instead  of  leaving  ther<  savages  in 
Africa.  All  this  seemed  reasonable,  with  no  „  0  jment  on 
the  other  side ;  and  the  fact  that  Nat  Turner  and  all  who 
joined  him  were  wiped  off  the  face  of  the  earth  seemed  a 
natural  result  of  Nat's  lack  of  appreciation  of  the  good 
state  in  which  he  lived.  In  a  general  way  I  had  heard, 
and  heard  it  with  regret,  that  the  real  culprits,  the  aboli- 
tionists, who  had  made  Nat  Turner  do  these  horrid  things, 
had  escaped,  and  from  time  to  time  contemplated  the  pos- 
sibility that  such  fiends  still  existed,  and  still  prowled  at 
night  about  negro  quarters,  and  induced  them  to  run 
away.  Of  course,  I  had  no  idea  that  such  a  thing  as  a 
negro  insurrection  could  occur  in  our  community  with 
a  body  of  troops  present  like  the  Public  Guard.  But  why 
talk  of  such  possibilities?  Were  not  the  negroes  per- 
fectly content  and  happy?  Had  I  not  often  talked  to 
them  on  the  subject  ?  Had  not  every  one  of  them  told 
me  repeatedly  that  they  loved  "  old  Marster  "  better  than 
anybody  in  the  world,  and  would  not  have  freedom  if  he 
offered  it  to  them  ?  Of  course  they  had,  —  many  and 
many  a  time.     And  that  settled  it. 

All  this  being  true,  I  looked  upon  an  abolitionist  as,  in 
the  first  place,  a  rank  fool,  engaged  in  trying  to  make 


BEHIND   THE   SCENES  75 

people  have  what  they  did  not  want ;  and  in  the  next 
place,  as  a  disturber  of  the  peace,  trying  to  make  people 
wretched  who  were  happy,  and  a  man  bad  at  heart,  who 
was  bent  on  stealing  what  belonged  to  his  neighbor,  or 
even  inciting  the  murder  of  people  for  slaveholding,  as  if 
slaveholding  were  a  crime,  when  it  was  no  crime,  but  a 
natural  and  necessary  condition  of  society. 

With  views  like  this  concerning  abolitionists  in  general, 
my  curiosity  was  greatly  excited  when  I  heard  that  one 
William  H.  Seward,  the  acknowledged  leader  of  the  Re- 
publican party  in  the  North,  was  not  only  in  the  city  of 
Richmond,  1  rnt  was  visiting  and  being  entertained  by  the 
Hon.  Jan^  Lyons,  a  connection  and  supporter  of  my 
father. 

:  When  I  was  presented  to  Mr.  Seward,  I  was  greatly 
surprised  to  find  him  a  natural-looking  person,  with  most 
attractive  manners,  genial,  bright  in  companionship,  laugh- 
ing in  his  talk,  and  actually  going  so  far  as  to  call  his 
host  Lyons,  and  the  other  gentlemen  by  their  given  names. 
Mr.  Seward  surprised  me  also  by  eating  and  drinking  and 
smoking,  and  having  a  good  time  generally ;  and  I  watched 
him  long  and  in  vain  to  see  some  distinguishing  mark  by 
which  I  might  thereafter  recognize  an  abolitionist.  I  dis- 
covered none,  except  it  be  a  wonderfully  large  nose,  which 
was  also  a  characteristic  of  John  Brown  and  Abraham 
Lincoln,  his  brother  abolitionists. 

I  listened  in  vain  for  some  utterance  of  abolition  views 
from  Mr.  Seward,  but  the  party  seemed  more  interested 
in  a  decanter  of  old  Madeira,  and  a  discussion  of  some 
passing  social  event,  than  in  the  all-absorbing  question  of 
slavery,  and  so  Mr.  Seward's  convictions  were  reserved 
for  future  expression.  I  thought  he  might  possibly  give 
money  to  Austin  the  butler,  with  which  to  escape  from 
slavery,  but,  so  far  as  was  ever  discovered,  nothing  like 


76  THE  END   OF  AN   ERA 

that  occurred.  Mr.  Seward  came  and  went.  He  enjoyed 
his  visit,  and  his  host  enjoyed  his  company.  But  neither 
made  much  impression  on  the  political  views  of  the  other. 
Many  other  things  were  happening  which  drew  my 
attention  to  the  subject  of  slavery.  During  our  next 
visit  to  Philadelphia,  everybody  was  talking  about  a  book 
and  a  play  called  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin."  I  had  heard 
mention  of  the  book  at  home,  as  a  very  powerful  but 
very  "pernicious"  book.  More  than  once  the  subject 
had  come  up  in  conversation  in  my  presence  ;  and  I  had 
heard  the  work  spoken  of  as  a  cruel  travesty  upon  South- 
ern life,  disgusting  in  its  sentimental  sympathy  with  the 
negro.  I  was  surprised  to  find  that  everybody  in  the 
North  was  reading  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  and  pronoun- 
cing it  a  remarkable  production  ;  and  when  it  was  pro- 
posed, on  our  next  visit  to  Philadelphia,  to  take  me  to 
a  theatre  to  see  this  wonderful  play  of  "Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin,"  I  was  delighted.  Never  did  theatrical  perform- 
ance open  to  any  one  more  gratifyingly  than  that  wonder- 
ful drama.  In  my  heart  I  had  a  feeling  that  our  North- 
ern kinsfolk  thought  their  homes  were  finer  than  those 
in  our  beloved  South.  I  did  not  think  so.  When, 
in  the  opening  act,  I  saw  the  beautiful  Southern  home, 
with  its  flowers  and  bowers  and  sunshine,  I  said  to  myself, 
"  Now  they  will  see  how  we  live,  and  will  envy  us."  Yes, 
old  Uncle  Tom  and  all  his  family  were  just  such  darkeys 
as  were  in  Virginia.  And  as  for  Eva,  there  she  was, 
looking  like  a  hundred  little  girls  I  knew,  and  infi- 
nitely sweeter  in  voice  and  eye  than  the  prim  Northern 
girls  surrounding  me.  And  Eva's  father!  I  knew  a 
hundred  charming  young  fellows  just  like  him.  Her  mo- 
ther ?  Well,  there  was  no  denying  it  that  now  and  then 
we  saw  one  like  her,  but  she  was  not  a  common  or  attrac- 
tive type.   And  Topsy  ?    Yes,  there  were  darkeys  just  like 


BEHIND   THE   SCENES  77 

her,  even  within  my  limited  knowledge.  I  laughed  and 
enjoyed  myself  along  with  the  others  over  Topsj^'s  queer 
antics. 

The  play  moved  on.  In  time  the  slave  auction  came, 
and  the  negro-buyers,  and  the  terrible  domestic  tragedy 
to  Uncle  Tom,  and  the  fearful  Mississippi  River  trip,  and 
the  whipping  of  Eliza's  husband,  —  her  flight,  the  blood- 
hounds, and  all  the  ghastly  story  which  thrilled  a  nation. 
I  was  too  young  to  grasp  the  moral  of  that  story,  yet 
old  enough  to  feel  my  heart  rebel  against  things  which  I 
had  never  before  seen  laid  at  the  door  of  the  people 
I  loved  and  among  whom  I  lived.  I  believed  that  many 
of  them  were  the  mere  creations  of  a  malignant  enemy, 
who  had  conjured  them  up  out  of  her  own  imagination  to 
prejudice  the  outside  world  against  my  kith  and  kin,  and 
I  indignantly  denied,  when  questioned  concerning  the 
play,  that  such  scenes  were  possible.  I  had  never  wit- 
nessed them,  or  heard  of  them,  in  the  home  of  my  father. 
I  resolved  to  denounce  and  forget  this  new  phase  of  sla- 
very which  that  night  had  revealed  to  me,  and  the  anger 
and  the  pity  which  I  heard  expressed  by  the  people  about 
me  confirmed  me  in  the  belief  that  they  were  sentimental- 
ists on  subjects  of  which  they  were  ignorant,  and  that  the 
denunciation  of  slavery  by  Northerners  sprang  from  pre- 
judices engendered  by  just  such  outrageous  exaggerations 
as  those  of  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin." 

But  the  play  made  a  deep  and  lasting  impression  upon 
me.  The  sweet  vision  of  little  Eva,  the  inexpressible 
pathos  of  Uncle  Tom,  the  freaks  of  Topsy,  came  back  to 
me  time  and  time  again.  Alas  !  they  returned  yoked  in 
my  memory  with  the  wretched  figure  of  Legree,  the  blood- 
hounds, and  the  misery  of  the  other  scenes,  and  the  possi- 
bility that  it  all  might  be  true  revealed  itself  to  me  in  a 
way  that  I  little  expected.     I  knew  there  was  such  a  thing 


78  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

as  a  negro-buyer.  On  one  or  two  occasions  I  had  had 
such  men  pointed  out  to  me.  I  had  been  taught  to  regard 
them  as  an  inferior  class  of  humanity ;  but  this  knowledge 
came  principally  from  the  negroes  themselves,  for  the 
grown  people  of  my  own  class  seldom  referred  to  them, 
and  they  received  no  sort  of  social  recognition.  I  had,  in 
fact,  seen  in  the  newspapers  advertisements  of  the  sale  of 
negroes,  side  by  side  with  little  figures,  of  a  man  with  a 
pack  on  his  back,  and  the  offer  of  a  reward  for  a  runaway. 
But  never  until  my  return  from  the  North  was  my  curios- 
ity sufficiently  aroused  to  make  me  locate  the  place  of  sell- 
ing negroes,  or  determine  me  to  see  a  sale. 

Among  my  Northern  kinsfolk  was  a  young  uncle,  a 
handsome,  witty  fellow,  much  younger  than  my  mother. 
Notwithstanding  her  death,  he  had  kept  up  his  affection 
and  intimacy  with  father.  Influenced  partly  by  his  regard 
for  father  and  partly  by  pride  as  a  Pennsylvanian,  he  had 
become  an  ardent  supporter  of  Mr.  Buchanan.  He  occu- 
pied a  rather  prominent  position  as  a  Democratic  member 
of  the  Pennsylvania  legislature.  Controlled  doubtless  by 
his  warm  attachments  in  the  South,  he  had  no  squeamish 
feelings  about  slavery.  He  loved  the  Union,  and  sincerely 
believed  that  the  only  way  to  preserve  it  was  by  recogniz- 
ing the  existence  of  slavery,  and  by  protecting  the  slave- 
holders in  all  lawful  ways.  He  believed  also  that  men  like 
his  brother-in-law  were  convinced  that  slavery  ought  to 
be  abolished  ;  and  that  the  best  way  to  bring  that  result 
about,  without  disunion  and  conflict,  was  to  trust  to  its 
gradual  accomplishment  by  the  slave  States  themselves, 
acting  under  the  influence  of  men  such  as  he  knew,  instead 
of  attempting  to  coerce  them  by  outside  influence,  which, 
as  he  believed,  would  arouse  their  antagonism  and  defi- 
ance, so  as  to  defeat  or  delay  the  end  desired.  This  was 
the  honest  feeling  which  made  many  a  Northern  man  a 


BEHIND   THE   SCENES  79 

Democrat  in  those  days.  It  may  have  been  an  error  in 
judgment,  but  it  was  an  error,  if  error  at  all,  on  the  side 
of  Union  and  fraternity,  springing  from  a  knowledge  of 
their  Southern  brethren,  a  respect  and  regard  for  them, 
and  a  desire  for  the  peaceful  solution  of  a  most  perplex- 
ing problem.  Let  no  man  at  this  day  denounce  that  feel- 
ing as  cowardice  or  lack  of  principle.  The  man  of  whom 
I  write  felt  that  way  and  acted  that  way  to  the  last.  But 
when  the  "  irrepressible  conflict "  came,  he  laid  down  his 
life  with  a  smile  for  the  Union,  while  many  a  man  who 
had  precipitated  the  struggle  never  went  to  the  front. 
And  he  was  but  one  of  thousands. 

It  was  he  who  had  taken  me  to  see  "Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin ;  "  and  it  was  he  who  had  petted  me,  and  taken  me 
about  the  streets  of  Philadelphia,  and  spoiled  me  in 
many  ways ;  and  it  was  he  who  had  taken  me  to  visit 
the  President ;  and  now  he  had  come  to  visit  us,  and 
spend  a  week  of  leisure  with  his  favorite  brother-in-law. 

My  oldest  brother  had  recently  returned  from  Paris. 
He  had  been  absent  as  Secretary  of  Legation  in  Berlin 
and  Paris  for  nearly  six  years.  He  and  my  uncle  were 
nearly  of  the  same  age,  and  devoted  friends.  Father  loved 
this  oldest  son  as  the  apple  of  his  eye,  and  the  feeling  of 
that  son  for  his  father  was  little  short  of  adoration.  The 
relations  between  these  three  —  father,  son,  and  brother-in- 
law —  were  of  the  most  intimate  and  beautiful  kind.  To- 
gether they  conferred,  as  if  they  were  men  of  the  same  age, 
and,  being  in  full  accord  on  public  questions,  their  views 
were  always  harmonious,  whether  looking  to  some  social 
pleasure,  or  some  cooperation  for  the  advancement  of  their 
political  plans.  Father  had  higher  ambitions  than  he 
had  yet  realized.  He  was  becoming  prominent  as  a  possi- 
ble candidate  for  the  presidency.  Both  from  a  natural 
inclination   and   a  desire  to  promote  his  candidacy,  my 


80  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

brother  had  become  editor  of  the  "  Richmond  Enquirer," 
the  leading  Democratic  journal  of  Virginia  ;  my  uncle  was 
heart  and  soul  enlisted  in  securing  support  for  father 
among  his  own  constituency.  It  was  believed  that  his 
well-known  conservatism  on  the  subject  of  slavery,  and 
his  intense  devotion  to  the  Union,  would  make  his  pro- 
spects very  good  for  the  nomination. 

I  had  unrestrained  access  to  the  library,  where  this  trio 
frequently  assembled ;  and,  without  being  admitted  into 
their  graver  conversation,  heard  it,  and  understood  its  gen- 
eral tenor.  The  occupations  of  my  father  and  brother  left 
their  visitor  to  find  his  own  amusements  until  the  evening 
hour,  and  he  diverted  himself  at  such  times  by  reading  or 
sight-seeing,  or  in  diversions  with  the  children,  of  whom 
he  was  very  fond. 

One  Saturday,  thus  left  alone  with  me,  the  subject 
of  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  "  came  up.  He  asked  if  I  had 
ever  seen  a  slave  sale.  "  No,"  said  I,  all  alert,  for  since  I 
saw  the  play  I  had  resolved  that  I  would  some  time  see 
a  slave  auction  ;  "  but  I  know  where  they  sell  them.  I 
saw  the  sign  a  few  days  ago.  Let  us  go  and  see  what  it 
is  like."  So  off  we  started.  Out  of  the  beautiful  grounds 
and  past  the  handsome  residences  we  went,  turning  down 
Franklin  Street  towards  the  great  Exchange  Hotel,  which 
was  at  that  time  the  principal  public  place  of  Richmond. 
Beyond  it  we  passed  a  church,  still  used  as  such,  although 
the  locality  had  been  deserted  by  residences,  and  stables 
and  little  shops  surrounded  it.  As  we  proceeded,  the 
street  became  more  and  more  squalid  and  repulsive,  until 
at  last  we  reached  a  low  brick  warehouse,  with  its  end 
abutting  on  the  street  and  running  far  back.  Over  the 
place  was  the  sign,  with  the  name  of  an  owner  and 
the  words  "  Auction  House  "  conspicuously  painted.  At 
the  door  hung  a  red  flag,  with  an  advertisement  pasted  on 


BEHIND   THE   SCENES  81 

its  side,  and  up  and  down  the  street  a  mulatto  man  walked 
with  another  flag,  ringing  a  large  bell,  and  shouting,  "  Oh, 
yea !  Oh,  yea !  Oh,  yea !  Walk  up,  gentlemen.  The  sale 
of  a  fine,  likely  lot  of  young  niggers  is  now  about  to 
begin."  To  these  he  added,  in  tones  which  were  really 
merry,  and  with  an  expansive  smile,  that  they  were  "  all 

sorts  of  niggers,  belonging  to  the  estate  of  the  late , 

sold  for  no  fault,  but  to  settle  the  estate ;  "  and  that  the 
lot  embraced  all  kinds,  "  old  ones  and  young  ones,  men 
and  women,  gals  and  boys." 

About  the  door,  and  on  the  inside,  a  few  men  were 
grouped,  some  in  their  shirt-sleeves.  For  the  most  part, 
they  had  the  appearance  of  hostlers.  The  place  itself 
looked  like  a  livery  stable  within  the  building.  For  a 
long  distance  back  from  the  street,  there  were  no  side- 
lights or  skylights.  In  the  rear  only  was  it  light,  where 
the  structure  projected  beyond  those  on  either  side  of  it, 
and  there  the  light  was  ample,  and  the  business  in  hand 
was  to  be  transacted. 

We  moved  cautiously  through  the  dark  front  of  the 
building,  and  came  at  last  to  the  rear,  where  a  small  plat- 
form occupied  the  centre  of  the  room,  and  chairs  and 
benches  were  distributed  about  the  walls.  Another  large 
mulatto  man  appeared  to  act  as  usher,  standing  near  a 
door,  through  which  from  time  to  time  he  furnished  a 
fresh  supply  of  slaves  for  sale.  A  large  man,  with  full 
beard,  not  a  bad-looking  fellow  but  for  the  "  ratty "  ap- 
pearance of  his  quick,  cold,  small  black  eyes,  acted  as 
auctioneer.  A  few  negroes  sat  on  the  bench  by  the  door, 
they  being  the  first  "  lot  "  to  be  disposed  of.  The  pur- 
chasers stood  or  sat  about,  smoking  or  chewing  tobacco, 
while  the  auctioneer  proceeded  to  read  the  decree  of  a 
chancery  court  in  the  settlement  of  a  decedent's  estate, 
under  which  this  sale  was  made.     The  lawyers  represent- 


82  THE   END  OF  AN   ERA 

ing  different  interests  were  there,  as  were  also  the  cred- 
itors and  distributees  having  interests  in  the  sale.  Besides 
these  were  ordinary  buyers  in  need  of  servants,  and  slave- 
traders  who  made  a  living  by  buying  cheap  and  selling 
for  a  profit.  We  took  seats,  and  watched  and  listened 
intently. 

After  reading  the  formal  announcement  authorizing 
the  sale,  the  auctioneer  became  eloquent.  He  proceeded 
to  explain  to  his  auditors  that  this  was  ';  no  ordinary  sale 
of  a  damaged,  no-'count  lot  of  niggers,  whar  a  man  buyin' 
a  nigger  mout  or  mout  not  git  what  he  was  lookin'  fur, 
but  one  of  those  rar'  opperchunities,  which  cum  only  once 
or  twice  in  a  lifetime,  when  the  buyer  is  sho'  that  fur 
every  dollar  he  pays  he  's  gittin'  a  full  dollar's  wuth  of 
raal  genuine  nigger,  healthy,  well-raised,  well-mannered, 
respectful,  obejunt,  and  willin'."  "  Why,"  said  he,  "  gen- 
tlemen, you  kin  look  over  this  whole  gang  of  niggers,  from 
the  oldest  to  the  youngest,  an'  you  won't  find  the  mark  of 

a  whip  on  one  of  'em.     Colonel ,  for  whose  estate 

they  is  sold,  was  known  to  be  one  of  the  kindest  marsters, 
and  at  the  same  time  one  of  the  best  bringers-up  of  nig- 
gers, in  all  Virginia.  These  here  po'  devils  is  sold  for 
no  fault  whatever,  but  simply  and  only  because,  owin'  to 
the  Curnel's  sudden  death,  his  estate  is  left  embarrassed, 
and  it  is  necessary  to  sell  his  niggers  to  pay  his  debts,  and 
for  distributin'  some  reddy  monny  amongst  numrus  'aars. 
Of  these  facts  I  assure  you  upon  the  honor  of  a  gentle- 
man." 

Having  thus  paved  the  way  for  good  prices,  he  an- 
nounced that  among  the  slaves  to  be  offered  were  good 
carriage-drivers,  gardeners,  dining-room  servants,  farm 
hands,  cooks,  milkers,  seamstresses,  washerwomen,  and 
"the  most  promisin',  growin',  sleek,  and  sassy  lot  of 
young  niggers  he  had  ever  had  the  pleasure  of  offerin'." 


BEHIND   THE  SCENES  83 

The  sale  was  begun  with  some  "  bucks,"  as  he  face- 
tiously called  them.  They  were  young,  unmarried  fellows 
from  eighteen  to  twenty-five.  Ordered  to  mount  the  auc- 
tion-block, they  stripped  to  the  waist  and  bounced  up, 
rather  amused  than  otherwise,  grinning  at  the  lively  bid- 
ding they  excited.  Cautious  bidders  drew  near  to  them, 
examined  their  eyes,  spoke  with  them  to  test  their  hearing 
and  manners,  made  them  open  their  mouths  and  show 
their  teeth,  ran  their  hands  over  the  muscles  of  their 
backs  and  arms,  caused  them  to  draw  up  their  trousers  to 
display  their  legs,  and,  after  fully  satisfying  themselves  on 
these  and  other  points,  bid  for  them  what  they  saw  fit. 
Whenever  a  sale  was  concluded,  the  successful  bidder 
was  announced,  and  the  announcement  was  greeted  by  the 
darkeys  themselves  with  broad  grins,  and  such  expres- 
sions as  "  Thank  Gord,"  or  "  Bless  de  Lord,"  if  it  went 
as  they  wished,  or  in  uncomplaining  silence  if  otherwise. 
It  was  surprising  to  see  how  thoroughly  they  all  seemed 
to  be  informed  concerning  the  men  who  were  bidding  for 
them. 

The  scenes  accompanying  the  sales  of  young  women 
were  very  similar  to  those  with  the  young  men,  except 
that  what  was  said  to  them  and  about  them  was  astonish- 
ingly plain  and  shocking.  One  was  recommended  as  a 
"  rattlin'  good  breeder,"  because  she  had  already  given 
birth  to  two  children  at  seventeen  years  of  age.  An- 
other, a  mulatto  of  very  comely  form,  showed  deep  embar- 
rassment when  questioned  about  her  condition. 

They  brought  good  prices.  "  Niggers  is  high  "  was  the 
general  comment.  Who  bought  them,  where  they  went, 
whether  they  were  separated  from  father,  mother,  brother, 
or  sister,  God  knows.  Let  us  hope  the  result  was  as 
humane  as  possible. 

"  I  am  now  goin'  to  offer  you  a  very  likely  young  chile- 


84  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

barin'  woman,"  said  the  auctioneer.  "  She  is  puffectly 
helthy,  and  without  a  blemish.  Among  the  family,  she 
is  a  universal  favorite.  I  offer  her  with  the  privilidge 
of  takin'  her  husban'  and  two  chillen  with  her  at  a  very 
rejuced  price,  because  it  is  the  wish  of  all  concerned  to 
keep  'em  together,  if  possible.  Get  up  here,  Martha 
Ann."  A  large-framed,  warm,  comfortable-looking,  mo- 
therly soul,  with  a  fine,  honest  face,  mounted  the  block. 
"  Now,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  continuing,  "  ef  you  '11  cast 
yo'  eyes  into  that  corner,  you  will  see  Israel,  Martha 
Ann's  husband,  and  Cephas  and  Melindy,  her  two  chil- 
dren. Israel  is  not  what  you  may  call  a  raal  able-bodied 
man.  He  broke  his  leg  some  years  ago  handlin'  one  of 
the  Curnel's  colts,  and  he  ain't  able  to  do  heavy  work  ; 
but  I  am  asshoed  by  everybody  on  the  place  that  Israel  is 
a  most  valuable  servant  about  a  house  for  all  kind  of 
light  work,  and  he  can  be  had  mighty  cheap." 

"Yes,  sir,"  spoke  up  Israel  eagerly,  "I  kin  do  as  much 
ez  ennybody ;  and,  marsters,  ef  you  '11  only  buy  me  and 
de  chillun  with  Martha  Ann,  Gord  knows  I  '11  wuk  my- 
self to  deth  fur  you." 

The  poor  little  darkeys,  Cephas  and  Melinda,  sat  there 
frightened  and  silent,  their  white  eyes  dancing  like  mon- 
key-eyes, and  gleaming  in  the  shadows.  As  her  husband's 
voice  broke  on  her  ear,  Martha  Ann,  who  had  been  look- 
ing sadly  out  of  the  window  in  a  pose  of  quiet  dignity, 
turned  her  face  with  an  expression  of  exquisite  love  and 
gratitude  towards  Israel.  She  gazed  for  a  moment  at  her 
husband  and  at  her  children,  and  then  looked  away  once 
more,  her  eyes  brimming  with  tears. 

"  How  much  am  I  offered  for  Martha  Ann  with  the  privi- 
lidge ?  "  shouted  the  auctioneer.  The  bidding  began.  It 
was  very  sluggish.  The  hammer  fell  at  last.  The  price 
was  low.     Perhaps,  even  in  that  crowd,  nobody  wanted 


BEHIND   THE   SCENES  85 

them  all,  and  few  were  willing  to  do  the  heartless  act 
of  taking  her  alone.  So  she  sold  low.  When  the  name 
of  her  purchaser  was  announced,  I  knew  him.  He  was  an 
odd,  wizen,  cheerless  old  fellow,  who  was  a  member  of  the 
Virginia  legislature  from  one  of  the  far-away  south- 
side  counties  adjoining  North  Carolina.  Heaven  be 
praised,  he  was  not  a  supporter  of  father,  but  called 
himself  an  Old-line  Whig,  and  ranked  with  the  opposi- 
tion. He  seemed  to  have  no  associates  among  the  mem- 
bers, and  nobody  knew  where  he  lived  in  the  city.  He 
was  notoriously  penurious,  and  drew  his  pay  as  regularly 
as  the  week  rolled  around. 

"  Mr.  buys  Martha  Ann,"  said  the  auctioneer. 

"  I   congratulate   you,   Mr.    .     You  've   bought   the 

cheapes'  nigger  sold  here  to-day.  Will  you  take  Israel 
and  the  young  uns  with  her  ?  " 

Deep  silence  fell  upon  the  gathering.  Even  imperturb- 
able Martha  Ann  showed  her  anxiety  by  the  heaving  of 
her  bosom.  Israel  strained  forward,  where  he  sat,  to 
hear  the  first  word  of  hope  or  of  despair.  The  old  man 
who  had  bid  for  her  shuffled  forward,  fumbling  in  his 
pockets  for  his  money,  delaying  his  reply  so  long  that  the 
question  was  repeated.  "  No — o,"  drawled  he  at  last ; 
"  no — o,  I  'm  sorry  for  'em,  but  I  railly  can't.  You  see,  I 
live  a  long  way  from  here,  and  I  ride  down  to  the  legisla- 
tur',  and,  when  I  get  here,  I  sell  my  horse  and  live  cheap, 
and  aims  to  save  up  enough  from  my  salary  to  buy  an- 
other horse  and  a  '  chile-barin'  woman '  when  the  ses- 
sion 's  done ;  and  then  I  takes  her  home,  ridin'  behind 
me  on  the  horse.  Thar  ain't  no  way  I  could  provide  for 
gittin'  the  man  and  the  young  uns  home,  even  if  they  was 
given  to  me.  I  think  I  'm  doin'  pretty  well  to  save  enough 
in  a  session  to  buy  one  nigger,  much  less  a  whole  fam- 
bly."     And  the  old  beast  looked  up  over  his  spectacles  as 


86  THE   END   OF  AN  ERA 

* 

he  counted  his  money,  and  actually  chuckled,  as  if  he  ex- 
pected a  round  of  applause  for  his  clever  business  ability. 

A  deep  groan,  unaccompanied  by  any  word  of  com- 
plaint, came  from  the  dark  corner  where  Israel  sat. 
Martha  Ann  stepped  down  from  the  platform,  walked  to 
where  he  was,  the  tears  streaming  down  her  cheeks,  and 
there,  hugging  her  children  and  rocking  herself  back  and 
forth,  she  sobbed  as  if  her  heart  was  breaking. 

My  companion  and  I  looked  at  each  other  in  disgust, 
but  neither  spoke  a  word.  I  was  ready  to  burst  into 
tears.  The  old  creature  who  had  bought  the  woman 
lugged  out  his  hoarded  money  in  sundry  packages  of  coin 
and  paper,  and,  as  he  counted  it,  said,  "  Martha  Ann, 
cheer  up ;  you  '11  find  me  a  good  marster,  and  I  '11  get  you 
a  new  husband."  He  might  well  have  added,  "  and  the 
more  children  you  have,  the  better  I  '11  like  you." 

Thank  God,  the  scene  did  not  end  there.  The  silence 
was  oppressive.  The  veriest  savage  on  earth  could  not 
have  witnessed  it  without  being  moved.  "Let  us  go 
away,"  I  whispered.  At  last  the  suspense  was  broken. 
A  handsome,  manly  fellow,   one  of  the  lawyers  in  the 

case,  exclaimed,  "  By !  I  can't  stand  this.     I  knew 

Colonel  well.     I  know  how  he  felt  towards  Israel 

and  Martha  Ann  and  their  children.  This  is  enough  to 
make  him  turn  in  his  grave.  I  am  unable  to  make  this 
purchase  ;  but  sooner  than  see  them  separated,  I  '11  bank- 
rupt myself.     Mr. ,  I  will  take  Martha  Ann  off  your 

hands,  so  as  to  buy  her  husband  and  children,  and  keep 
them  together." 

"  Well,  now,  you  see,"  drawled  the  old  fellow,  pausing 
in  his  work,  with  trembling  hand,  "  if  you  feel  that  way, 
the  time  to  speak  was  when  the  gal  was  up  for  sale."  His 
eye  glittered  with  the  thought  of  turning  the  situation  to 
advantage.     "  You  see  she  's  mine  now,  and  I  consider 


BEHIND   THE   SCENES  87 

her  a  very  desirable  and  very  cheap  purchase.  Moreover, 
if  you  want  her,  I  think  you  ought  to  be  willin'  to  pay  me 
something  for  the  time  and  trouble  I  've  wasted  here 
a-tryin'  to  git  her." 

The  proposition  was  sickening.  But  the  old  creature 
was  so  small  himself  that  his  demand  of  profit  was  like- 
wise small,  and  the  matter  was  soon  arranged.  Whether 
he  remained  and  bought  another  "  chile-barin'  "  woman 
is  unknown ;  for,  sick  at  heart  at  the  sights  we  had 
witnessed,  we  withdrew,  and  walked  slowly  back  in  the 
glorious  sunlight,  past  the  neighboring  church,  and  up 
to  the  happy  abodes  of  Virginia's  best  civilization,  little 
inclined  to  talk  of  the  nightmare  we  had  been  through. 
From  that  hour,  the  views  of  both  of  us  concerning  sla- 
very were  materially  modified.  Throughout  the  day,  the 
horrors  we  had  witnessed  came  back  and  back  again  to  me  ; 
and,  recuperative  as  I  was,  I  was  very,  very  unhappy. 

That  night,  the  experiences  of  the  morning  were  the 
subject  of  a  long  and  anxious  and  earnest  conversation 
between  father,  my  brother,  and  my  uncle.  At  its  close, 
I  felt  much  relieved  and  proud  of  them,  and  better  satis- 
fied, because  they  were  all  agreed  that  a  system  in  which 
things  like  that  were  possible  was  monstrous  ;  and  that 
the  question  was,  not  whether  it  should  be  abolished,  and 
abolished  quickly,  but  as  to  the  manner  of  its  abolition. 

Within  seven  years  from  that  time,  my  brother  and  my 
uncle  were  both  dead,  —  killed  in  battle  on  opposite  sides, 
in  a  struggle  resulting  from  slavery.  Father's  fortune 
and  happiness  were  engulfed  in  the  horrible  fraternal  strife 
which  grew  out  of  this  cancer  on  the  body  politic,  —  a  can- 
cer which  all  three  of  those  men  were  honestly  anxious 
to  destroy. 

Virginians  !  you  who  in  our  day  were  led  by  Lee  and 
Jackson !  have  you  read  this  chapter  ?     Is  it  true  or  un- 


88  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

true  ?  Ask  yourselves  calmly.  The  time  has  now  come 
when  you  ought,  in  justice  to  yourselves,  to  try  to  satisfy 
yourselves  wherein  your  old  system  was  wrong  and  unjus- 
tifiable, as  well  as  wherein  it  was  right.  One  who  loves 
you  wrote  this  story ;  one  who  was  your  comrade  in  the 
fight  we  lost ;  one  who  has  no  word  of  blame  for  you,  but, 
on  the  contrary,  believes  that  we  had  every  provocation  to 
fight ;  one  who,  as  long  as  he  lives,  will  glory  in  the  way 
we  fought,  and  is  proud  of  his  own  scars,  and  teaches  his 
children  to  believe  that  the  record  of  Confederate  valor 
is  a  priceless  heritage. 

It  is  not  written  when  the  truth  can  do  you  harm.  It 
is  not  written  by  an  alien  in  feeling,  or  an  enthusiast  for 
an  abstract  idea.  It  is  written  to  make  you  think,  —  to 
make  you  ask  yourselves  whether  you  caD,  before  God, 
claim  that  all  was  as  it  should  be  when  we  had  slavery. 
It  is  written  to  reconcile  you  to  your  loss  by  showing  you 
from  what  your  children  were  delivered. 

It  is  penned  in  the  firm  belief  that  some  day,  while 
brooding  upon  the  happiness,  the  wealth,  the  culture,  the 
refinement  then  possessed  by  the  South,  and  to  so  large 
an  extent  lost  to  her  now,  you  may  realize  that  all  these, 
delightful  as  they  were,  did  not  justify  the  curse  and  mis- 
ery of  human  slavery.  I  seek  to  make  you  realize,  if 
not  admit,  that  its  abolition  was  a  greater  blessing  to  us 
even  than  to  the  slaves,  and  that  emancipation  was  worth 
all  we  surrendered,  and  all  the  precious  lives  that  were 
destroyed  ;  to  bring  you  to  confess,  the  brave  and  gen- 
erous men  I  know  you  to  be,  that  the  time  has  come  at 
last  when,  through  our  tears,  and  without  disloyalty  to 
the  dead,  in  the  possession  of  freedom  and  union  and  lib- 
erty, true  Confederates,  viewing  it  all  in  the  clearer  light 
and  calmer  atmosphere  of  to-day,  ought  to  thank  God 
that  slavery  died  at  Appomattox. 


CHAPTER   VII 

MT   BROTHER 

In  the  last  chapter  I  spoke  of  the  return  of  my  brother 
Jennings  from  France.  After  graduating  at  Bloomington, 
Ind.,  and  studying  law  at  William  and  Mary  College, 
and  before  he  attained  his  majority,  he  had  received  from 
President  Pierce  an  appointment  in  the  diplomatic  service, 
and  was  sent  to  Berlin  as  attache  of  the  American  Lega- 
tion. He  spent  three  years  in  Berlin  and  Heidelberg, 
and  was  thence  transferred  to  Paris  as  Secretary  of  Lega- 
tion, where  he  further  improved  himself  by  study,  and  by 
contact  with  the  most  polished  society  in  Europe.  When 
he  returned  to  Virginia  in  1857,  at  the  age  of  twenty -five, 
he  was  well  equipped  for  a  brilliant  career.  His  home- 
coming after  a  long  absence  was  the  occasion  of  great 
rejoicing  in  our  family.  It  was  as  if  a  new  light  had  sprung 
up  in  the  household.  My  brother  was  so  modest  and  unaf- 
fected that  his  acute  intellect  and  varied  information  were 
not  always  revealed  to  strangers.  His  disposition  was  so 
amiable  that  in  all  his  life  he  never  had  a  boyish  quarrel 
with  any  one.  Of  singularly  mature  and  sedate  nature, 
he  had  been  his  father's  loved  and  trusted  companion 
before  his  departure  for  foreign  parts  ;  and  now  that 
he  had  returned  and  was  about  to  assume  life's  serious 
responsibilities,  they  became  inseparable  companions.  He 
at  first  entered  upon  the  practice  of  law ;  but  although 
he  secured  reasonable  employment,  and  was  thoroughly 
trained  in  common,  civil,  and  international  law,  he  found 
the  practice   irksome,  and   lacking  in   excitement.     His 


90  THE  END   OF   AN  ERA 

ambition  was  for  political  distinction,  and  very  soon  lie 
quit  the  law,  and  became  editor  of  the  "  Richmond  En- 
quirer," the  Democratic  organ  of  Virginia.  The  touch 
of  a  master  hand  was  quickly  revealed  in  that  journal.  His 
familiarity  with  foreign  politics,  and  the  new  lights  shed 
upon  them  by  his  knowledge  and  criticisms,  attracted 
widespread  interest  on  the  part  of  his  fellow-journalists, 
as  well  as  the  public.  In  domestic  politics,  his  ardent 
nature  was  soon  made  manifest  upon  every  page.  Since 
the  death  of  Father  Ritchie,  its  once  famous  editor,  the 
"  Enquirer  "  had  lost  ground,  and  descended  to  the  level 
of  a  staid  and  humdrum  commonplace  newspaper. 

Within  a  short  time  the  paper  again  stood  foremost 
among  Southern  journals,  and  my  brother's  name  became 
as  well  known  as  that  of  his  father.  His  social  successes 
were  not  less  marked  than  his  professional  triumphs. 
Women  and  children  idolized  him.  And  well  they  might, 
for  he  preferred  their  society  to  that  of  men.  Passion- 
ately fond  of  music  and  of  dancing,  it  was  his  delight  to 
steal  away  from  the  sombre  circle  of  his  own  sex,  or 
leave  the  after-dinner  cigar  and  wine,  to  join  the  ladies  in 
the  drawing-room.  There  he  would  linger  with  unsatis- 
fied delight,  listening  to  the  music,  or  dancing  until  all 
others  were  exhausted.  An  accomplished  linguist,  with 
all  sorts  of  interesting  knowledge  of  the  world,  delight- 
ful in  conversation,  he  possessed  an  indescribable  charm 
for  women.  Yet,  although  he  was  brought  into  daily 
contact  with  exquisite  creatures,  whom  it  was  almost  im- 
possible not  to  love,  his  fondness  for  the  other  sex  seemed 
altogether  platonic. 

If  a  child  saw  him  once,  it  never  forgot  him.  Children 
flocked  about  him  as  if  he  had  been  the  Pied  Piper  of 
Hamelin.  He  rejoiced  in  this  sovereignty,  and  ever  went 
prepared  with  trifles  to  surprise  and  delight  them. 


MY   BROTHER  91 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  things  about  him  was  his 
unaffected  piety.  He  never  made  a  profession  of  religion, 
yet  he  was  as  punctilious  in  church  attendance  as  an 
elder ;  and  in  the  silence  of  his  chamber,  where  no  one 
saw  him,  he  prayed  every  night  before  retiring.  Unlike 
the  many  blase  youths  who  are  spoiled  by  residence  in 
France,  a  long  life  in  Paris  had  produced  no  visible  effect 
upon  his  purity  of  life  or  childlike  faith.  Whoever  was 
thrown  with  him,  young  or  old,  superior  or  inferior,  first 
wondered  at  his  sweet  simplicity,  and  then  loved  him  for 
his  unaffected  naturalness,  sincerity,  and  gentleness.  This 
charming  young  brothei*,  returning  after  so  long  an  ab- 
sence as  if  from  the  dead,  was  a  revelation  and  a  source 
of  wonderment  from  the  time  I  awoke  in  the  morning 
until  I  closed  my  eyes  at  night.  This  was  literally  true, 
for  until  his  coming,  I  had  never  seen  anybody  open  the 
day,  winter  and  summer,  with  a  plunge  into  an  ice-cold 
bath  ;  likewise,  until  his  arrival  with  his  Parisian  love  of 
the  theatre,  I  had  never  closed  the  day  at  the  playhouse 
with  a  companion  always  glad  to  go,  be  it  ever  so  bad  a 
show. 

My  brother  Richard,  near  my  own  age,  had  been  sent 
off  to  boarding-school,  leaving  me  sole  occupant  of  our 
sleeping  apartment.  The  chambers  of  the  Government 
House  were  large  and  lonesome,  and  it  was  with  unspeak- 
able pleasure  that  I  obtained  consent  of  the  newcomer 
that  my  little  bed  should  be  placed  in  his  chamber.  From 
this  association  sprung  pleasures  innumerable.  The  mar- 
velous things  from  Paris  and  Berlin  were  sources  of 
unending  interest  and  information.  There  were  the  great 
German  Schlagers,  or  dueling-swords,  used  by  the  Heidel- 
berg students  in  the  contests  among  their  fighting  corps, 
and  in  time  I  was  fully  informed  about  the  habits  of  the 
German   universities.     How   it   tickled  me  to   hear  the 


92  THE   END   OF   AN  ERA 

story  of  young  Sidney  Legare,  of  South  Carolina,  who 
joined  the  Saxon  Corps,  and,  armed  with  one  of  these 
selfsame  Schlagers,  fought  and  won  his  battle  with  a 
German  baron  !  The  inscriptions  on  the  hilt  bore  the 
names  of  the  young  Americans  who  maintained  the  pluck 
of  the  United  States  among  the  Continental  youth. 

There  also  were  fencing-foils  and  masks,  with  which  he 
had  become  so  expert  in  beautiful  Paris  that  he  was 
known  in  every  salle  cVarmes.  With  these  we  had  many 
a  friendly  bout,  until  I  considered  myself  quite  a  rattling 
blade  with  the  foils.  Then  at  times  our  conversation  was 
in  French  ;  especially  when  I  required  cash,  or  proposed 
some  amusement,  I  plunged  away  at  him  with  all  the 
French  I  could  command,  until  I  really  improved  in 
speaking.  From  him  also  I  learned  much  of  Parisian 
court  life  in  the  time  of  Louis  Napoleon,  and  many  a  day 
laughed  at  the  stories  of  the  intimacy  between  Napoleon 
III.  and  the  Hon.  John  Y.  Mason,  of  Virginia,  the  Amer- 
ican Minister  to  France,  in  whose  house  my  brother  had 
been  regarded  almost  as  one  of  the  family. 

My  bright  and  joyous  room-mate,  bustling  about 
o'  mornings,  making  his  toilet  after  his  exhilarating  bath, 
often  sang  snatches  of  Parisian  operas,  or  repeated  long 
passages  from  Shakespeare,  Byron,  and  Walter  Scott, 
for  he  was  full  of  romance.  Thus  I  became  familiar  with 
operatic  airs,  and  could  repeat  many  of  the  striking  poet- 
ical quotations.  And  there  were  the  Parisian  clothes 
and  toilet  articles  and  preparations,  —  wonderful  French 
waistcoats  and  cravats  and  neckerchiefs,  and  boots  and 
shoes,  and  eau  de  quinine  for  those  curly  locks,  and 
pomade  for  that  downy  mustache ;  every  one  of  them 
strange  and  new  and  very  captivating  to  me.  I  would 
rub  my  own  frowsy  mop  of  hair,  hitherto  only  half 
brushed,  with  that  eau  de  quinine,  until  my  scalp  was  as 


MY  BROTHER  •  93 

red  as  a  lobster,  and  sighed  that  I  had  no  mustache  on 
which  to  test  the  perfumed  stick  pomatum.  What  is  there 
on  this  earth  more  delightful  to  the  small  boy  than  rum- 
maging among  the  toilet  outfit  and  dress  of  a  grown-up 
brother?  And  he  told  me  wonderful  stories  of  knights 
and  ladies  and  tournaments,  and  put  me  to  reading  Sir 
Walter  Scott ;  and  gave  me  a  famous  copy  of  "  Charles 
O'Malley,  the  Irish  Dragoon,"  and  laughed  with  me  over 
"  Handy  Andy ;  "  and  in  the  evenings,  when  lessons  were 
difficult,  lifted  me  along  with  Caesar  and  Virgil  or  mathe- 
matics, that  we  might  go  together  later  to  the  show.  Then 
there  were  the  German  wines  he  had  brought  home,  four 
hundred  varieties  ;  for,  while  he  was  abstemious,  and  cared 
little  for  spirituous  or  malt  liquors,  he  loved  to  sip  the 
Rhine  wines  with  his  cigar  ;  and  I,  who  was  by  no  means 
averse  to  them,  was  soon  an  expert  in  Niersteiners,  and 
Laubenheimers,  and  Moselle  Auslice,  and  Liebfraumilch, 
and  Johannisbergers,  and  all  the  rest ;  but  above  all,  I 
loved  the  sparkling  Moselles,  which  have  all  my  life 
reminded  me  of  that  beloved  companion  of  those  happy 
days.  Oh,  never  had  boy  a  friend  and  mentor  like  him, 
—  so  lovable,  so  affectionate,  so  considerate,  so  pure,  so 
stimulating  to  honest  work,  so  willing,  so  resourceful  in 
innocent  amusement. 

One  night  we  attended  the  play  of  "  East  Lynne  "  at 
the  old  Richmond  Theatre.  The  performance  was  poor 
enough,  to  be  sure,  to  a  young  man  fresh  from  Paris,  but 
I  thought  it  was  great.  On  our  way  home,  he  remarked 
that  the  only  performer  of  merit  in  the  caste  was  the 
young  fellow,  John  Wilkes  Booth.  In  him,  he  said,  there 
was  the  making  of  a  good  actor.  The  criticism  made  an 
impression  upon  me,  who  remembered  the  man  and  the 
name.  Little  did  I  imagine  then  that  in  seven  years  my 
beloved  companion  would  be  one  of  the  victims  of  our 


94  THE   END   OF   AN  ERA 

great  national  tragedy,  or  that,  at  its  close,  the  callow 
stripling  who  played  before  us  that  night  would  shock 
the  civilized  world  with  the  awful  assassination  of  the 
President. 

And  now  we  come  to  the  antithesis  of  all  these 
happy  incidents.  I  have  dwelt  upon  him  at  length  with 
a  purpose,  —  he  illustrated  a  peculiar  phase  of  that  civil- 
ization. Gentle  as  was  that  brother,  —  tender  and  lov- 
ing as  he  was  to  every  one,  devoted  as  a  slave  to  his 
father,  deferential  to  his  mother  as  if  she  had  been  a 
queen,  courteous  and  considerate  towards  the  humblest 
servant  who  ministered  to  his  wants,  honored  1  be- 
loved by  everybody  with  whom  he  was  thrown,  —  he  was 
nevertheless  as  fearless  and  uncompromising  in  certain 
things  as  the  fiercest  knight  who  ever  entered  the  ^sts. 
He  was,  more  emphatically  than  any  man  I  ever  knew, 
the  type  of  the  class  to  which  he  belonged.  He  had  been 
educated  in  a  school,  at  home  and  abroad,  which  not  only 
recognized  the  code  duello,  but  accepted  it  as  the  most 
rational  mode  of  settling  private  differences. 

Of  private  differences  personal  to  himself,  my  brother 
had  none.  But  father 's  reputation  was  the  object  of  his 
care  above  all  others.  On  one  occasion,  when  asked  if 
his  heart  had  not  yet  been  touched  by  woman,  he  replied, 
"  No.  My  love  for  father  —  my  desire  for  his  advance- 
ment —  is  the  absorbing  passion  of  my  life.  It  leaves 
no  place  for  other  deep  affection.  Female  society  is 
indeed  most  attractive,  but  beside  the  other  feeling,  it 
is  a  mere  passing  thought.  I  have  no  time  for  other 
serious  love."  What  an  odd  speech  for  the  latter  half  of 
the  nineteenth  century  !     Does  it  not  sound  mediaeval  ? 

In  the  course  of  public  discussion  of  public  men,  there 
were  criticisms  of  his  father,  —  some  facetious,  some 
severe.     Concerning  such,  he  had  determined  upon  a  line 


MY  BROTHER  95 

of  action.  Quick  and  hot  and  insulting  came  the  reply 
to  every  comment  of  this  kind.  Then  followed,  in  due 
course,  the  inquiry  as  to  authorship,  the  avowal,  the  de- 
mand of  a  retraction,  the  refusal,  the  challenge,  the  duel. 
To  the  young  editor,  there  was  nothing  alarming  in 
all  this,  there  was  nothing  improper,  there  was  nothing 
unexpected.  He  had  resolved  that  whoever  criticised 
his  father  should  do  so  at  his  peril,  should  be  insulted, 
should  be  fought  if  it  was  so  desired,  and  that  to  this 
line  of  conduct  he  would  adhere  until  such  criticism 
stopped,  or  he  himself  stopped  a  bullet. 

He  bsurd,  how  utterly  Quixotic,  such  a  course  seems 
to  us  to-day !  Yet,  in  that  time,  not  only  was  it  deemed 
no  absurdity,  but  a  great  number  of  the  community,  in 
factla  majority,  regarded  it  as  natural  and  manly,  evincing 
chivalry  of  the  very  highest  order. 

Now,  whatever  other  commodities  may  have  been  scarce 
in  Virginia  markets  of  that  time,  righting  was  as  easily 
obtainable  as  blackberries  in  June.  Not  many  young 
Virginians  were  his  peers  in  intellect  and  accomplish- 
ments, but  there  were  many  who  were  as  brave  and  no 
more  intimidated  by  the  danger  of  a  duel.  Many  such 
were  opposed  to  him  in  politics,  and  were  unwilling  to 
forego,  from  any  fear  of  fighting,  the  decided  expression 
of  their  opinions  on  politics  in  general,  or  of  his  father 
in  particular. 

The  result  was  that  he  had  all  the  dueling  the  most 
enthusiastic  advocate  of  the  sport  could  desire,  for  the 
next  two  years.  A  cabal  of  father's  political  antagonists 
held  a  conclave,  if  reports  were  true,  and  determined  that 
the  son  was  an  obstacle  in  their  way,  to  be  disposed  of, 
in  furtherance  of  their  arrangements  to  defeat  the  father. 
Under  these  refined,  humane,  and  highly  civilized  condi- 
tions, my  brother  Jennings  actually  fought  eight  duels  in 


96  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

less  than  two  years.  It  all  seems  ludicrous  to  us,  in  our 
prosaic,  commonplace,  and  common-sense  way  of  looking 
at  things  nowadays ;  but  it  was  no  joke  to  me,  when 
every  two  or  three  months  I  missed  my  beloved  compan- 
ion from  his  room  and  bed  for  several  days,  only  to  learn 
that  he  was  engaged  in  fighting  another  duel.  Pitiful 
and  anxious  indeed  were  the  days  and  nights  passed  on 
such  occasions,  waiting  to  know  the  result.  To  me  it  was 
an  enigma  past  my  comprehension.  What  it  was  all 
about,  I  could  not  understand.  I  would  read,  and  read 
again,  the  publications  leading  to  these  fearful  duels; 
and  for  the  life  of  me  I  could  not  comprehend  what  there 
was  in  them  to  drive  men  to  seek  each  other's  lives.  I 
could  not  conceive  the  mental  or  moral  processes  by 
which  my  sweet  brother,  who  never  quarreled  with  any- 
body, could  bring  himself,  without  anger,  to  shoot  at 
another  man  with  deadly  intent.  And  when  he  returned, 
laughing  at  the  eagerness  of  my  embraces  and  welcome, 
and  apparently  bearing  no  ill-will  towards  anybody  or 
anything  on  earth,  and  when  I  saw  him  say  his  prayers  at 
night,  and  go  to  church,  and  mingle  in  gay  society,  just 
as  he  had  done  before,  the  mystery  only  deepened. 

My  brother  most  certainly  seemed  to  bear  a  charmed 
life,  for  no  one  ever  hit  him  in  these  many  encounters. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  was  no  mystery  to  me  that  he  hit 
nobody  himself,  for  I  knew  that  a  more  execrable  shot 
never  went  afield.  Sometimes,  after  this  abominable  duel- 
ing began,  we  practiced  with  dueling-pistols.  His  foreign 
education  had  trained  him  only  in  the  use  of  the  broad- 
sword and  the  foils,  and  these  were  not  American  weapons. 
On  several  occasions,  I  saw  enough  of  his  bad  marksman- 
ship to  know  that  if  he  hit  anybody  it  would  be  by  acci- 
dent ;  for  he  was  both  inexpert  and  inapt  with  firearms, 
and  I  easily  outstripped  him  in  marksmanship. 


MY  BROTHER  97 

The  thing  went  on ;  duel  after  duel  occurred.  In  one 
of  them,  the  gallant  fellow,  after  his  opponent  fired,  dis- 
charged his  pistol  in  the  air,  because  his  adversary  was 
near-sighted  and  at  his  mercy.  In  another,  after  ineffec- 
tual exchange  of  shots  and  the  customary  palaver,  matters 
had  been  adjusted.  At  last,  on  another  occasion,  the  antag- 
onists had  actually  started  to  leave  the  field,  when  his 
adversary  demanded  another  shot.  His  demand  was 
acceded  to,  and  at  the  next  fire  my  brother  succeeded  in 
hitting  him,  and  seriously  wounded  him.  Little  credit 
he  deserved  for  marksmanship ;  it  was  another  instance 
like  that  of  the  shooter  portrayed  in  "  Punch,"  in  which 
a  sportsman,  hitting  a  bird  after  many  failures,  appealed 
to  the  Scotch  game-keeper :  "  Ah,  Sandy,  I  hit  that  one." 
"  Yes,  sir,"  was  the  reply,  "  they  will  fly  into  it  some- 
times." But  whether  designed  or  accidental,  this  last 
performance,  after  making  a  great  hubbub  for  a  few 
days,  resulted  in  giving  him  a  breathing-spell,  and  he  had 
no  more  duels  prior  to  the  outbreak  of  the  war. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

unveiling  of  washington's  statue,  and  removal  of 

moneoe's  remains,  1859 

In  all  her  history,  from  the  formation  of  the  federal 
government  until  the  hour  of  secession,  no  year  stands 
out  more  prominently  than  the  year  1858  as  evidencing 
the  national  patriotism  of  Virginia.  To  one  participating 
in  the  scenes  enacted  in  Richmond,  and  listening  to  the 
speeches  of  her  leaders,  the  statement  that  within  three 
years  the  old  commonwealth  would  renounce  allegiance  to 
the  federal  Union  would  have  seemed  preposterous. 

The  State,  at  great  expense,  had  reared  a  noble  monu- 
ment to  the  memory  of  George  Washington.  It  consists 
of  a  central  shaft  surmounted  by  an  equestrian  statue  of 
Washington,  with  six  smaller  plinths,  on  which  are  placed 
heroic  figures  of  Virginians,  representing  different  periods 
of  her  greatness. 

Not  one  of  these  men  was  famous  for  deeds  done  on 
behalf  of  Virginia  alone.  The  fame  of  each  and  every 
one  of  them  rests  upon  public  services,  or  sacrifices  for  the 
nation. 

Among  such,  Virginia  finds  her  greatest  names. 
There  was  Washington,  her  son,  father  of  his  country  ; 
there,  too,  Andrew  Lewis,  who  penetrated  the  unexplored 
wilderness  of  the  Northwest  and  made  it  hers.  Yet  she 
joyously  ceded  all  claims  upon  it  to  the  nation,  as  her 
contribution  to  perpetual  union  and  fraternity,  imposing 
only  the  conditions  that  slavery  should  never  exist  there, 


UNVEILING  OF  WASHINGTON'S  STATUE  99 

and  that  alternate  sections  of  land  should  be  dedicated 
to  public  education.  There  was  also  Patrick  Henry,  who 
roused  thirteen  colonies  to  revolution  with  his  immortal 
eloquence ;  and  George  Mason,  who  drafted  a  bill  of 
rights  epitomizing  the  aspirations  and  safeguards  of 
republican  institutions  in  language  which,  from  then  until 
now,  has  furnished  the  substance  of  the  written  charts  of 
government  of  all  the  newly  admitted  States  ;  and  Thomas 
Jefferson,  sage,  philosopher,  and  seer,  author  of  the 
Declaration  of  Independence,  the  Statutes  of  Religious 
Liberty,  and  founder  of  Virginia's  university  ;  and  Gen- 
eral Thomas  Nelson,  who  devoted  his  fortune  to  the  Conti- 
nental struggle,  and  trained  an  American  cannon  upon 
his  own  house  when  it  was  the  headquarters  of  Corn- 
wallis  at  Yorktown;  and  John  Marshall,  who  began  his 
public  career  as  captain  in  a  Virginia  regiment,  served  at 
Valley  Forge  and  Monmouth,  and  afterwards,  as  Chief 
Justice  of  the  United  States,  was  the  peerless  expounder 
of  that  Constitution  which  he  had  fought  to  establish. 

Oh,  what  a  galaxy  of  men,  encompassing  the  very 
heavens  of  our  national  life !  What  other  commonwealth 
could  produce  its  like  then  ?  What  other  can  produce  it 
now? 

Is  it  surprising  that  the  Virginians,  whose  State  was 
mother  of  the  nation's  father,  whose  great  Chief  Justice, 
the  youngest  of  the  immortal  group,  was  the  lodestar  of 
constitutional  construction,  loved  that  Union  and  rejoiced 
in  it,  and  honored  it  from  their  hearts'  inmost  depths  ? 

In  other  States,  jealousies  and  animosities  against  the 
Union  may  have  existed,  but,  up  to  that  time  at  least, 
such  sentiments  found  little  lodgment  in  the  breasts  of 
the  Virginians. 

With  beating  hearts  and  honest  pride,  they  assembled 
from   every   section,   February  22,  1858,  to   unveil  the 


100  THE  END  OF  AN  ERA 

equestrian  statue  of  Washington.  The  figures  of  Henry 
and  Jefferson  had  preceded  that  of  Washington,  and  were 
on  their  appropriate  plinths.  Poor  Crawford,  the  sculptor 
in  charge  of  the  work,  had  died  from  over-exertion  in 
Rome  after  the  Washington  figure  was  cast  and  shipped 
to  America.  The  presence  of  his  widow  lent  an  additional 
and  pathetic  interest  to  the  scene  about  to  be  enacted. 

The  vessel  bearing  the  statue  arrived  at  Richmond 
from  Italy  some  weeks  before  the  unveiling.  The  male 
population  of  the  city,  men  and  boys,  dragged  the  statue 
through  the  streets  from  the  wharves  to  the  Capitol 
grounds,  a  distance  of  over  a  mile.  Enthusiasm  was 
unbounded  on  every  hand. 

Of  all  these  new  sights  I  there  beheld,  that  which  capti- 
vated me  most  was  the  corps  of  cadets  of  the  Virginia 
Military  Institute.  The  State  owned  an  arsenal  at  Lex- 
ington, in  the  valley  between  the  Blue  Ridge  and  the 
Alleghanies.  Prior  to  1839,  she  kept  a  guard  at  this 
arsenal.  In  that  year,  she  established  there  a  military 
school,  in  charge  of  Captain  Francis  H.  Smith,  a  dis- 
tinguished graduate  of  West  Point.  It  was  organized 
strictly  on  the  lines  of  the  United  States  Military  Acad- 
emy, as  to  drill,  discipline,  tuition,  and  all  else.  At  first 
the  number  of  cadets  was  limited  to  a  few,  who  received 
board  and  tuition  free,  and  in  return  guarded  the  pro- 
perty of  the  State,  and  agreed  to  teach  school  for  a  certain 
period  after  graduation.  By  degrees,  a  large  number  of 
cadets  were  admitted  upon  condition  that  they  pay  for 
board  and  tuition.  The  school  grew ;  extensive  buildings 
were  erected ;  and  in  1858  the  Virginia  Military  Insti- 
tute had  over  three  hundred  cadets,  and  was  the  best 
establishment  of  the  kind  in  the  United  States,  except 
the  United  States  Military  Academy.  It  resembled  the 
latter  in  everything  but  in  the  liberality  of  appropriations, 


UNVEILING  OF  WASHINGTON'S   STATUE        101 

and  the  assurance  of  an  appointment  to  the  army.  Its 
original  superintendent  remained  in  charge,  and  he  con- 
tinued to  hold  the  office  for  fifty  years.  To  this  uniformity 
of  administration  much  of  the  high  reputation  of  the 
school  was  no  doubt  attributable. 

The  appearance  of  the  corps  on  the  above  occasion,  the 
first  on  which  I  ever  saw  it,  was  sufficient  to  excite  the 
wildest  enthusiasm  of  a  small  boy.  Never  before  had  I 
seen  such  trim,  alert  figures  ;  such  clean,  saucy-looking 
uniforms  ;  such  machine-like  precision  and  quickness  of 
drill ;  such  silence  and  obedience.  From  the  first  day  my 
eye  rested  on  the  cadet  corps,  the  height  of  boyish  ambi- 
tion was  to  be  a  cadet.  Four  companies  of  infantry  and  a 
section  of  artillery  drawn  by  "  rats  "  constituted  the  cadet 
outfit. 

The  "  rats  "  referred  to  were  not  genuine  rats  like  those 
attached  to  Cinderella's  coach,  but  "plebes,"  or  new 
cadets,  who,  until  they  remain  a  year  and  hear  "  Auld 
Lang  Syne  "  played  at  the  graduation  exercises,  are  called 
"  rats."  The  only  thing  about  this  fine  body  that  struck 
me  as  in  any  way  lacking  in  soldierly  appearance  was  the 
commandant  of  the  infantry  battalion.  He  was  not  my 
ideal  of  a  soldier,  either  in  military  bearing,  or  in  the 
manner  in  which  he  gave  his  commands.  His  uniform 
was  not  new ;  his  old  blue  forage-cap  sat  on  the  back  of 
his  head  ;  and  he  stood  like  a  horse  "  sprung "  in  the 
knees.  His  commands  were  given  in  a  piping,  whining 
tone,  and  he  appeared  to  be  deeply  intent  upon  his  busi- 
ness, without  paying  much  regard  to  the  onlookers.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  officer  commanding  the  section  of  ar- 
tillery was  the  model  of  a  martinet.  He  was  petite,  quick 
as  a  lizard,  straight  as  a  ramrod,  and  his  commands  were 
delivered  like  the  crack  of  a  whiplash.  I  thought  him 
a  perfect  commanding  officer. 


102  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

The  cadets  were  quartered  in  the  Richmond  Lyceum. 
When  the  ceremonies  were  over,  the  small  boys  collected 
about  the  corps  like  flies  about  molasses,  and,  when  the 
cadets  marched  off  to  their  quarters,  followed  them,  I 
among  the  foremost.  I  knew  several  of  the  cadets.  When 
the  command  was  halted  near  its  quarters,  we  boys 
crowded  around  it  in  such  a  way  that  we  inconvenienced 
the  officer  in  charge.  He  passed  along  the  line,  tapping 
us  back  with  the  flat  side  of  his  sword,  exclaiming  in  a 
deprecatory  voice,  "  Get  away,  little  boys  !  Get  away  — 
get  A-W-A-Y  !  "  It  was  ludicrous,  and  I  could  detect 
smiles,  even  on  the  faces  of  the  thoroughly  disciplined 
cadets ;  but  something  in  the  manner  of  the  officer  made 
the  boys  get  away,  and  get  away  in  a  hurry. 

When  the  parade  was  dismissed,  on  inquiring  about 
the  officers,  I  learned  that  the  odd-looking  commandant 
was  familiarly  called  "  Old  Jack ;  "  that  his  real  name  was 
Major  Jackson ;  and  that  the  cadets,  while  disposed  to 
make  light  of  him  for  his  eccentricities,  dared  not  trifle 
with  him.  As  to  the  other  officer,  Major  Gilham,  all 
agreed  that  he  was  the  best  drill-officer  and  tactician  they 
had  ;  that  he  was  far  superior  to  Major  Jackson  ;  and  they 
spoke  with  profound  respect  of  the  infantry  tactics  of 
which  he  was  the  author. 

At  the  grand  reception  given  that  night  by  my  father, 
I  again  saw  both  these  officers,  and  their  bearing  con- 
firmed me  in  the  judgment  that  there  was  no  question 
which  was  the  superior  soldier.  Major  Jackson  was  plainly 
dressed,  wore  coarse  shoes,  had  a  weary  look  in  his  blue 
eyes,  took  very  little  part  in  conversation,  seemed  bored 
by  the  entertainment,  neither  ate  nor  drank,  and,  after 
paying  his  respects  to  the  governor,  and  to  General  Win- 
field  Scott,  commander-in-chief  of  the  armies  of  the 
United  States,  quietly  disappeared.     Colonel  Gilham,  on 


UNVEILING  OF  WASHINGTON'S  STATUE        103 

the  other  hand,  was  urbane,  ubiquitous,  and  remained 
until  the  close  of  the  entertainment. 

In  after  years,  I  had  occasion  to  revise  my  opinion  of 
the  relative  ability  of  these  two  men,  for  Major  Jackson 
was  none  other  than  the  immortal  Stonewall ;  and  Major 
Gilham,  while  brave  enough,  never  rose  beyond  the  rank 
of  colonel,  and  retired  from  active  service  in  1862  to 
resume  his  professorship  at  the  Institute. 

And  "  Old  Fuss  and  Feathers  !  "  —  bless  his  colossal 
old  soul !  was  ever  a  name  more  appropriately  bestowed  ? 
—  I  saw  him  also  that  day,  for  the  first  time.  What  a 
monster  in  size  he  was !  Never  was  uniform  more  mag- 
nificent ;  never  were  feathers  in  cocked  hat  more  profuse ; 
never  was  sash  so  broad  and  gorgeous.  He  was  old  and 
gouty,  keen  for  food,  quick  for  drink,  and  thunderous  of 
voice,  large  as  a  straw-stack,  and  red  as  a  boiled  lobster. 
His  talk  was  like  the  roaring  of  a  lion,  his  walk  like  the 
tread  of  the  elephant.  No  turkey-gobbler  ever  strutted  or 
gobbled  with  more  self-importance  than  did  the  hero  of 
Lundy's  Lane.  The  women  flattered  him,  and  he  liked  it. 
The  men  toasted  him,  and  he  never  refused  to  join  or  to 
respond.  As  long  as  he  remained,  he  was  the  cynosure 
of  all  present.  When  he  withdrew,  a  characteristic  inci- 
dent occurred.  In  the  great  hallway,  he  called  for  his 
wraps  and  his  galoshes.  The  servants  were  quick  to  hurry 
forward  with  them.  Several  cadets  had  been  invited  to 
the  entertainment,  and  were  standing  about  awestruck  in 
the  presence  of  the  commander-in-chief. 

As  the  servants  offered  him  his  cloaks  and  overshoes, 
he  waved  them  away  imperiously,  and  in  his  commanding 
voice  thundered  out,  "  No,  no  !  Let  the  cadets  attend 
upon  me.  Here,  you  cadets!  Help  me  with  my  over- 
shoes and  wraps.  It  is  not  every  day  that  I  can  get 
such  orderlies,  and  it  is  not  every  day  that  you  can  wait 


104  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

upon  the  general  of  the  armies."  The  boys  leaped  for- 
ward to  his  assistance,  delighted  at  such  distinguished  con- 
descension, and  soon  had  him  fully  caparisoned.  With  his 
arms  about  their  shoulders,  he  laboriously  descended  the 
sleety  marble  steps,  shouted  back  some  cheery  words  to 
those  watching  on  the  portico,  entered  the  fine  carriage 
which  awaited  him,  slammed  the  door,  and  drove  away, 
snorting  and  puffing,  in  all  his  majesty. 

What  a  wonderful  mixture  of  gasconade,  ostentation, 
fuss,  feathers,  bluster,  and  genuine  soldierly  talent  and 
courage  was  this  same  Winfield  Scott  of  blessed  memory ! 
A  great  smoking  mass  of  flesh  and  blood !  So  devoted  to 
epicurean  enjoyment  that,  even  when  he  was  candidate 
for  President,  he  lugged  into  his  public  papers  allusion  to 
his  "  hasty  plate  of  soup."  But  for  all  that,  a  splendid 
soldier  in  the  service  of  his  country  for  over  fifty  years. 
What  a  contrast  he  presented  to  his  favorite  companion, 
— gentle,  quiet  Colonel  Lee  ! 

It  was  days  after  this  glorious  celebration  before  its 
excitements  subsided  sufficiently  to  enable  me  to  concen- 
trate my  reluctant  mind  upon  Latin,  French,  and  mathe- 
matics. 

Delightful,  inspiring  to  patriotism,  exhilarating,  as  were 
the  ceremonies  at  the  unveiling  of  the  Washington  statue, 
the  scenes  enacted  in  Richmond  in  July  of  that  same  year 
outstripped  them  far  in  gorgeousness,  and  in  the  display 
of  fraternal  feelings  between  the  North  and  South. 

In  the  month  of  April,  the  Virginia  legislature  made 
provision  for  the  removal  of  the  remains  of  Ex-President 
James  Monroe  from  the  city  of  New  York  to  the  capital 
of  Virginia. 

Mr.  Monroe  had  been  buried  in  New  York  with  appro- 
priate honors,  interred  in  a  private  cemetery  vault,  pur- 


REMOVAL   OF  MONROE'S   REMAINS,   1859         105 

chased  by  his  daughters,  and  there  his  ashes  "  awaited 
the  call  of  his  native  State  "  for  twenty-seven  years.  At 
the  time  the  Virginia  legislature  made  that  call,  his  only 
surviving  descendants  were  three  children  of  Mrs.  Gou- 
verneur.  The  eldest,  bearing  his  name,  deeply  afflicted 
by  Providence,  and  the  second,  a  daughter,  spoke  through 
their  father,  Samuel  L.  Gouverneur  of  Frederick  County, 
Maryland  ;  the  third,  Samuel  L.  Gouverneur,  Jr.,  spoke 
for  himself.     All  assented  to  the  removal. 

The  public  announcement  of  the  intention  of  his  native 
State  to  reclaim  his  ashes  was  the  signal  for  a  great  out- 
burst of  patriotic  fervor  in  Virginia  and  in  New  York. 

Virginians  residing  in  New  York  held  meetings  look- 
ing to  the  disinterment  there  with  appropriate  ceremonies ; 
the  city  authorities  at  once  passed  the  necessary  resolu- 
tions. Committees  of  conference  were  sent  from  Virginia. 
A  steamship  was  chartered  to  convey  the  remains,  and  the 
New  York  military  vied  with  one  another  for  the  honor  of 
acting  as  military  escort.  So  great  was  the  enthusiasm 
that  it  culminated  in  a  tender,  by  the  Seventh  Regiment 
of  New  York,  of  their  escort  of  the  remains  at  their  own 
expense,  as  a  guard  of  honor  from  New  York  to  Rich- 
mond. This  being  accepted,  that  splendid  body  of  citizen 
soldiery  chartered  the  Ericcson  steamer,  and  made  ready 
for  their  patriotic  pilgrimage. 

The  Richmond  military  were  all  busy  with  preparations 
to  receive  their  guests.  The  public  grounds,  the  Capitol, 
all  public  places,  were  filled  with  workmen  erecting  arches, 
painting  patriotic  emblems,  hanging  thousands  of  colored 
lanterns,  and  draping  the  city  in  mourning.  The  Fourth 
of  July  fell  that  year  upon  Sunday.  Consequently,  the 
arrival  of  the  remains  and  the  military  escort  was  timed 
for  Monday,  July  5.  At  daybreak  and  at  sunrise  the 
Fayette  Artillery,  a  local  volunteer  organization,  fired  the 


106  THE   END   OF  AN  ERA 

national  salute  in  the  Capitol  Square.  At  six  o'clock, 
the  flags  upon  the  public  buildings,  hotels,  and  shipping 
were  placed  at  half  mast.  The  citizens  were  still  engaged 
draping  their  residences  and  places  of  business  in  the 
habiliments  of  mourning.  The  Henrico  Light  Dragoons, 
the  Public  Guard,  the  First  Virginia  Regiment,  the 
Young  Guard  Battalion,  and  the  Rocky  Ridge  Rifles 
from  the  neighboring  town  of  Manchester  formed  line 
at  seven  o'clock  and  marched  to  Rocketts,  the  landing- 
place  of  the  steamer  Jamestown,  bearing  the  remains  of 
President  Monroe.  Upon  the  neighboring  hillsides  were 
gathered  thousands  of  people,  men  and  women,  white  and 
black,  of  every  condition  in  life.  Carriages,  omnibuses, 
and  baggage-wagons  were  drawn  up  in  long  lines  near  the 
wharf  ;  marshals  and  field-officers  rode  hither  and  thither 
giving  orders,  and  scattering  the  crowds  to  right  and  left 
before  them.  Flaunting  flags,  and  signals  at  half  mast, 
were  visible  everywhere ;  civic  organizations  with  bands 
and  banners  followed  the  military.  The  whole  community 
was  in  a  ferment  of  expectation. 

"  The  day  opened  clear  and  beautiful,  the  intense  heat 
relieved  by  a  pleasant  southerly  breeze.  The  local  troops 
stacked  arms,  and  waited  the  arrival  of  the  steamers. 

"  The  Jamestown  came  in  sight  at  ten  minutes  past  eight 
o'clock,  and  slowly  approached  the  wharf,  with  flags  and 
signals  at  half  halliards.  As  the  ship  came  alongside  her 
wharf,  the  committee  and  guests  from  New  York  stood 
on  the  upper  deck,  and  regarded  with  much  interest  the 
exciting  scene  on  shore. 

"The  remains  of  President  Monroe  having1  been  re- 
moved  from  the  forward  saloon  to  the  upper  deck  and 
placed  under  an  awning,  the  governor  and  mayor  pro- 
ceeded on  board  the  Jamestown  and  received  the  guests, 
and  an  interchange  of  friendly  greetings  took  place.    The 


REMOVAL  OF  MONROE'S   REMAINS,   1859         107 

remains  were  attended  by  a  detachment  of  the  New  York 
National  Guard,  but  after  their  arrival,  they  were  relieved 
by  a  platoon  of  the  Richmond  Grays,  detailed  for  the 
purpose. 

"  The  steamer  Glen  Cove,  with  the  New  York  Seventh 
Regiment  on  board,  came  in  sight  at  ten  minutes  past  ten, 
and,  despite  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion,  the  younger 
portion  of  the  assembled  throng  gave  vent  to  their  feel- 
ings in  a  cheer.  As  the  steamer  approached  the  wharf, 
her  appearance  was  really  imposing.  The  soldiers,  with 
their  glittering  arms,  were  paraded  ready  for  debarkation, 
while  the  splendid  band  of  the  Seventh,  stationed  on  the 
forward  deck,  played  a  solemn  dirge. 

"  The  Virginia  troops  were  drawn  up  in  line,  facing  the 
river,  ready  to  receive  the  visitors,  and  without  unneces- 
sary delay  the  Seventh  left  the  boat,  and  passed  on  to  the 
right  of  the  line,  the  Virginia  military  presenting  arms  as 
they  marched  by. 

"The  hearse,  drawn  by  six  white  horses,  attended  by 
six  negro  grooms  dressed  in  white,  now  proceeded  to  the 
steamer,  and,  under  the  direction  of  the  pall-bearers,  re- 
ceived the  remains.  The  troops  presented  arms,  flags 
were  lowered,  drums  rolled,  and  trumpets  sounded,  after 
which  the  Armory  Band  played  a  dirge,  while  the  hearse 
proceeded  to  its  place  in  the  line.  Minute-guns  were  fired 
and  bells  tolled,  continuing  during  the  progress  of  the  pro- 
cession to  the  cemetery. 

"  The  procession  moved  at  half  past  eleven  o'clock. 

"  The  route  lay  directly  up  Main  Street  to  Second, 
down  Second  to  Cary,  and  thence  out  to  Hollywood.  All 
along  the  route  of  the  procession,  a  distance  of  more  than 
two  miles,  the  sidewalks  were  lined  with  spectators  ;  every 
balcony,  porch,  and  window  overlooking  the  street,  every 
available  spot  on  the  line,  was  crowded  with  ladies,  chil- 


108  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

dren,  and  men.  The  minute-guns  continued  firing  ;  the 
bells  in  the  vicinity  of  the  route  tolled,  answered  by  peals 
from  others  in  the  distance  ;  business  was  universally  sus- 
pended ;  and  the  attention  of  the  entire  community  was 
concentrated  on  the  imposing  pageant  in  honor  of  the 
memory  of  the  illustrious  man  whose  bones  were  now  on 
the  way  to  their  earthly  resting-place. 

"  The  troops  marched  with  reversed  arms,  and  the 
bands  played  music  appropriate  to  the  occasion. 

"  The  grave  of  Monroe  is  located  in  the  southwest  cor- 
ner of  Hollywood,  on  an  eminence  com  man  *ng.  a  magni- 
ficent view  of  the  city,  the  river,  and  the  environs. 

"After  the  line  was  formed  around  the  grave,  tJ  e  coffin 
was  removed  from  the  hearse.  When  the  remains  were 
lowered  into  the  grave,  the  troops  presented  arms,  the 
Seventh  Regiment  rested  on  arms,  and  the  band  played  a 
dirge.  This  portion  of  the  ceremony  being  over,  the  gov- 
ernor appeared  on  the  front  of  the  platform  and  spoke :  — 

"  '  Countrymen  and  Fellow  Citizens  :  The  General 
Assembly  of  the  Commonwealth  has  ordered  that  the 
remains  of  James  Monroe,  one  of  the  most  honored  and 
best  beloved  of  her  sons,  shall,  under  the  direction  and  at 
the  discretion  of  the  governor,  be  removed  from  the  pub- 
lic burying-ground  in  the  city  of  New  York  to  the  ceme- 
tery at  the  city  of  Richmond.  The  remains  are  removed, 
the  cenotaph  is  open,  and  we  are  here  assembled  to  inter 
them  in  their  last  resting-place  with  becoming  ceremonies. 

"  '  Venerable  Patriot !  —  he  found  his  rest  soon  after 
he  retired.  On  the  4th  of  July,  1831,  twenty-seven  years 
ago,  he  departed,  like  Jefferson  and  Adams,  on  the  anni- 
versary of  the  Independence.  His  spirit  was  caught  up 
to  heaven,  and  his  ashes  were  enshrined  in  the  soil  of  his 
adopted  State,  whose  daughter  he  had  married,  —  of  that 


REMOVAL  OF  MONROE'S  REMAINS,   1859         109 

grand  and  prosperous  Commonwealth  whose  motto  is 
"  Excelsior,"  our  sister  New  York,  the  Empire  State  of 
the  United  States  of  America.  Virginia  was  the  natural 
mother  of  Monroe,  and  New  York  was  his  mother-in-law, 
—  Virginia  by  birth  and  baptism,  New  York  by  marriage 
and  burial.  This  was  well,  for  he  gave  to  her  invaders 
the  glaived  hand  of  "  bloody  welcome  "  at  Trenton,  and 
New  York  gave  to  him  a  "  hospitable  grave."  Virginia 
respectfully  allowed  his  ashes  to  lie  long  enough  to  con- 
secrate her  sister's  soil,  and  now  has  dutifully  taken  them 
to  be  "  eartr.'-'to  her  earth  and  ashes  to  her  ashes,"  at  home 
in  the  land  of  his  cradle.  New  York  has  graciously  bowed 
to  thejifamily  request,  has  disinterred  the  remains,  has 
laid  them  out  in  state,  and  has  sent  the  elite  of  her  chi- 
valry to  escort  them  with  banners  and  trumpets,  in  mili- 
tary and  civic  procession,  to  our  cemetery.  Who  knows 
this  day,  here  around  this  grave,  that  New  York  is  of  the 
North,  and  that  Virginia  is  of  the  South  ?  "  The  North 
has  given  up,"  and  "  the  South  shall  not  hold  back,"  and 
they  are  one,  even  as  all  the  now  proud  and  preeminent 
thirty-two  are  one. 

" '  We  affectionately,  then,  welcome  New  York,  and  cor- 
dially embrace  her  around  the  grave  of  him,  Virginia's 
son,  to  whom  she  gave  a  resting-place  in  life  and  in  death. 
And  now  I  call  the  minister  of  God  to  pray  for  his  bless- 
ing on  this  passing  scene.  I  ask  the  righteous  man  to 
pray  fervently  and  effectually  for  the  example  of  this 
patriot's  life  to  be  blessed  to  the  youth  of  our  country,  — 
blessed  to  the  people  of  this  generation ;  blessed  to  the 
public  men  of  New  York  and  Virginia  and  the  United 
States;  blessed  to  the  cause  of  truth  and  justice  and 
human  freedom ;  and  blessed  to  the  perpetual  strength, 
peace,  liberty,  and  union  of  this  confederacy,  "  one  and  in- 
divisible, now  and  forever  !  "     May  the  good  which  this 


110  THE  END   OF  AN  ERA 

patriot  did  be  revived  by  the  disinterment  of  his  bones, 
and  may  monuments  of  wisdom  and  virtue  like  his  be  so 
multiplied  and  raised  around  yonder  Capitol  of  the  Mo- 
ther of  States,  that  the  very  statues  of  her  heroes  and 
sages  and  patriots  dead  and  departed  shall  be  the  moral 
guide-marks  of  her  living  and  active  servants,  to  preserve 
this  Commonwealth,  untorn  in  destiny  and  untarnished  in 
glory,  to  "  the  last  syllable  of  recorded  time,"  when  the 
tenants  of  Hollywood,  this  beautiful  city  of  the  dead, 
shall  rise  to  immortal  life  ! '  " 

Of  these  inspiring  scenes  I  was  a  silent  but  interested 
witness.  Every  manifestation  of  patriotic  and  fraternal 
feeling  thrilled  me  to  my  inmost  soul.  From  time  to  time 
I  had  heard  the  mutterings  of  discontent  and  the  pro- 
phesies of  approaching  conflict,  but  the  scenes  which  I 
beheld,  and  the  burning  words  and  thundering  shouts  I 
heard  that  day,  put  at  rest  the  last  feeling  of  fear  for  the 
future  of  my  country. 

At  the  close  of  the  ceremonies  at  the  grave,  the  artillery, 
stationed  outside  the  inclosure,  fired  three  salvos. 

Upon  the  day  following,  the  delirious  city  was  given  a 
specimen  of  the  drill  and  efficiency  of  the  glorious  Seventh 
Regiment.  Its  appearance  and  perfection  in  drill  and 
discipline  were  beyond  all  expectations.  After  a  review 
by  the  governor,  Colonel  Duryee  drilled  the  regiment, 
without  music,  in  various  battalion  movements. 

I  stood  agape  at  every  evolution.  The  Virginia  troops, 
which  I  had  theretofore  regarded  as  perfection  itself, 
seemed  to  me  now  a  mere  incongruous  lot  of  painted  toys, 
contrasted  with  this  homogeneous  mass  of  military,  neat, 
brilliant  in  cleanliness,  and  absolutely  without  gaudiness. 
In  the  Richmond  regiment  no  two  companies  were  of  the 
same  size,  and  no  two  uniformed  alike.  The  Grays  were 
gray,  the  Blues  were  blue,  the  Montgomery  Guard  was 


REMOVAL  OF  MONROE'S   REMAINS,   1859         111 

green  as  the  waters  of  Niagara,  the  Riflemen  blue  and 
green,  the  Young  Guard  blue  and  red.  One  company  had 
waving  plumes  of  white,  another  short  pompons,  a  third 
red  and  white  plumes.  When  they  were  drawn  up  in 
line,  they  looked  deplorably  irregular,  contrasted  with  the 
absolute  uniformity  of  the  handsome  Seventh. 

It  seemed  incredible  that  I,  a  protege,  in  fact  a  veteran, 
of  the  Richmond  military,  —  I,  who  until  now  had  looked 
upon  the  First  Virginia  Regiment  as  the  finest  body  of 
troops  on  earth,  —  could  come  to  regard  it  as  almost  con- 
temptible in  the  short  space  of  twenty-four  hours. 

Yet  there  were  others  like  me. 

Said  one  paper :  — 

"The  recent  visit  of  the  Seventh  Regiment  of  New 
York  to  our  city,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  will  have  a  good  effect 
on  our  volunteer  organization.  We  could  but  regard  the 
simple  uniform  of  the  entire  regiment,  and  the  neat  and 
unostentatious  dress  of  its  officers,  as  presenting  a  wide 
contrast  with  the  parti-colored  line  of  our  volunteers,  and 
the  fine  decorations  and  pompous  display  which  meet  the 
eye  in  surveying  our  regimental  parades. 

"  We  have  not  a  doubt  that  the  volunteer  force  of  the 
city  would  be  strengthened,  would  be  increased  in  num- 
bers and  improved  in  discipline,  if  they  would  consolidate 
themselves  into  one  regiment,  abandon  their  uniforms, 
and  adopt  a  new  and  plain  dress  for  the  whole  body  of 
soldiers." 

Little  did  the  writer  know,  and  less  did  the  Seventh 
Regiment  suspect,  that  upon  this  visit  they  fixed,  in  the 
Southern  mind,  a  type  of  uniform  which,  within  three 
years,  was  substantially  adopted  by  the  Confederate 
States. 

Three  years  after  this  date,  the  First  Virginia  Regiment 
had  fought  in  the  battle  of  Manassas ;  and  the  Seventh 


112  THE  END   OF  AN  ERA 

was  encamped  at  Arlington  Heights,  but  fifteen  miles'  dis- 
tant, being  part  of  a  hostile  force  moving  against  Mount 
Vernon  and  Richmond.  Such  was  the  rapid  march  of 
events. 

After  the  scenes  above  described  had  closed,  and  the 
military  had  departed,  the  remainder  of  the  year  glided 
away  uneventfully ;  but  the  glorious  memories  of  July  5 
lingered,  and  all  Richmond  was  busy  in  the  effort  to  have 
a  real  military  force  such  as  it  had  seen,  and  to  abandon 
the  past  methods  of  its  volunteer  system.  As  for  patriotic 
national  feeling,  it  is  safe  to  say  that,  when  the  year  1859 
opened,  in  spite  of  Southern  fire-eaters  and  Northern 
fanatics,  there  were  not,  in  the  whole  State  of  Virginia, 
five  thousand  men  who  had  any  sort  of  sympathy  with  the 
idea  of  secession. 


"  ^ 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  JOHN    BROWN   RAID 

The  declamation  against  disunion  and  the  mutual 
pledges  of  fraternal  love  between  North,  and  South, 
which  attended  the  banquet  to  the  Seventh  New  York 
Regiment  in  Richmond,  arose  in  great  part  from  a  know- 
ledge of  sectional  feeling,  threats  of  disunion,  and  of 
partisan  recriminations  between  politicians,  but  too  fa- 
miliar to  all  who  spoke.  At  the  same  time,  an  intense 
antagonism  to  slavery  existed  in  sections  of  the  North 
and  West,  accompanied  by  the  determination  to  abolish 
it  by  any  means  in  their  power,  lawful  or  unlawful. 

Little  effort  has  been  made  to  record  the  fact,  yet  it  is 
nevertheless  true,  that  many  Southern  men  were  working 
earnestly  and  loyally  towards  the  adoption  of  some  plan 
of  gradual  emancipation  which,  while  it  would  free  the 
slave,  would  not  destroy  the  labor  system  of  the  South  or 
leave  the  slave-owner  impoverished.  The  abolitionist  did 
not  believe  this.  He  was  uncharitable  in  his  judgment 
of  the  humanity  of  the  slave-owner ;  and  his  demand  that 
a  difficult  problem,  requiring  time  for  its  solution,  should 
be  disposed  of  at  once  and  in  his  way  — per  fas  aut 
nefas  —  was  strongly  provoking.  The  attitude  of  the 
people  of  the  North  generally  concerning  escaped  slaves 
seemed  to  the  Southerners  inconsistent,  and  tended  to 
increase  the  friction  between  the  sections.  The  people  of 
the  North  professed  great  reverence  for  their  Constitu- 
tional obligations,  and  constantly  disclaimed  a  purpose  to 


114  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

interfere  with  slavery  where  it  existed.  They  insisted 
that  they  were  only  opposed  to  the  spread  of  slavery  into 
the  free  States  or  Territories,  and  would  respect  the  rights 
of  the  slave-owner  where  slavery  already  existed.  Yet, 
whenever  a  slave  escaped,  the  Northern  community  in 
which  he  sought  asylum  was  practically  unanimous  in 
thinking  it  a  great  outrage  and  hardship  if  he  was  pur- 
sued into  their  territory  and  taken  back  to  his  owner.  It 
is  often  said  that,  before  the  war,  only  a  small  portion  of 
the  Northern  people  belonged  to  the  abolition  party. 
Whether  that  was  true  or  not,  it  is  certain  that  a  vast 
majority  of  every  Northern  community  was  in  sympathy 
with  obstacles  thrown  in  the  way  of  recapturing  escaped 
slaves.  Everybody,  North  and  South,  was  well  aware 
that  in  many  instances  the  slave  was  enticed  from  his 
home  by  abolition  emissaries.  Yet  when  he  reached  the 
North,  thousands  who  would  not  have  gone  South  to 
incite  him  to  escape  did  all  they  could  to  make  the  work 
of  the  emissaries  effectual. 

In  such  a  condition  of  affairs,  the  practical  difference 
between  the  abolitionist  and  the  sympathizer,  to  the 
man  who  lost  his  slave  and  could  not  recover  it,  was  very 
nebulous.  From  certain  descriptions  of  these  times,  one 
would  think  that  all  the  threats  and  taunts  were  made, 
and  all  the  provocations  were  given,  by  the  Southerners. 
At  this  late  day,  such  a  contention  is  nonsense.  No  more 
defiant,  vindictive,  or  aggressive  speech  was  ever  made 
than  that  of  Charles  Sumner,  senator  from  Massachusetts, 
in  the  United  States  Senate  in  1859,  on  the  "  Barbarism 
of  Slavery."  He  had  a  personal  grievance,  it  is  true ;  he 
had  been  brutally  assaulted  in  that  chamber  years  before, 
and  his  speech  bore  every  mark  of  being  the  result  of 

"  The  patient  watch  and  vigil  long 
Of  him  who  treasures  up  a  wrong." 


THE  JOHN  BROWN  RAID  115 

It  is  not  justifying  the  assault  made  upon  Mr.  Sum- 
ner by  Preston  S.  Brooks  to  say  that  no  man  ever  did 
more  to  provoke  an  attack  upon  himself  than  did  Mr. 
Sumner.  His  speech  in  1856  was  able,  studied  in  its 
malignity,  and  all  the  more  provoking  from  its  strength. 
Nor  was  Sumner  the  only  man  of  that  class.  We  may 
search  through  the  congressional  debates  in  vain  for  more 
coarse  and  insulting  language  than  that  used  by  Senator 
Ben  Wade,  of  Ohio,  upon  the  floor  of  the  Senate.  Every 
opportunity  was  taken  by  him  to  lead  the  debates  in  the 
Senate  into  sectional  channels. 

Acquisition  of  Cuba  is  more  advocated  in  the  North 
to-day  than  in  the  South.  In  1860,  the  project  was  branded 
by  the  Republicans  in  the  Senate  as  a  slaveholder's  scheme 
for  securing  additional  representation.  The  proposition 
then  made  by  Senator  Slidell,  to  purchase  Cuba  for 
thirty  million  dollars,  was  flouted  by  Wade  and  his  party 
as  a  mere  ruse  for  providing  "  niggers  for  the  niggerless." 
Jealousy,  antagonism,  and  hatred  between  the  sections 
animated  the  representatives  of  both,  and  neither  lost  any 
opportunity  to  vituperate  and  recriminate. 

While  this  was  the  condition  of  feeling  among  the 
politicians,  it  had  not  yet  extended  to  the  masses.  For 
several  years,  the  conflict  had  been  in  progress  between 
the  free-soilers  and  pro-slavery  men  in  Kansas.  The 
Virginians  were  conservative  in  their  views  about  that 
struggle.  They  realized  that  the  men  engaged  in  it  on 
both  sides  were  a  bloodthirsty  and  disreputable  lot.  Lead- 
ing Virginians,  supporters  of  Mr.  Buchanan,  warned  him 
not  to  go  too  far  in  subserviency  to  the  extreme  pro- 
slavery  men,  or  to  force  a  pro-slavery  constitution  upon 
the  State.  Virginians,  while  they  heard  of  the  fanatical 
and  bloody  butcheries  committed  in  Kansas  by  one  "  Old 
Brown,"  and   men  of  his  class,   also   heard   of   equally 


116  THE    END   OF   AN   ERA 

horrid  crimes  committed  by  the  pro-slavery  men.  They 
held  both  in  abhorrence,  and  indorsed  neither. 

It  was  not  the  Kansas  trouble  that  occasioned  them 
concern,  or  excited  their  apprehensions  concerning  the 
Union.  It  was  the  announcement  by  Abraham  Lincoln, 
of  Illinois,  in  his  debate  with  Douglas  in  1858,  that  the 
Union  was  a  house  divided  against  itself,  and  that  sla- 
very and  union  could  not  coexist.  It  was  declarations  like 
those  of  Senator  Seward,  of  New  York,  that  "  an  irrepres- 
sible conflict  "  existed  between  the  North  and  South.  It 
was  speeches  of  men  like  Charles  Sumner,  breathing 
deep  malice  against  the  South,  and  denouncing  it  in 
polished  oratory.  These  and  a  hundred  others  like  them 
from  men  of  the  North,  less  prominent  but  not  less 
representative,  made  Virginians  realize  that  the  times 
were  perilous,  and  say  to  themselves  :  "  If  this  temple 
of  union  is  divided  against  itself  and  must  fall,  if  slavery 
and  union  cannot  coexist,  if  an  irrepressible  conflict  is 
upon  us,  if  Mr.  Sumner  expresses  the  state  of  Northern 
sentiment,  it  is  manifest  that  the  hour  of  disunion  is 
here.  The  only  thing  remaining  for  us  to  do  is  to  begin 
to  consider  which  side  of  us  the  line  of  cleavage  shall 
come,  north  or  south." 

Virginians  were  no  more  angels  or  philanthropists  than 
people  to  the  north  or  to  the  south  of  them.  They  were 
moved  by  their  affections,  their  interest,  and  their  resent- 
ments, just  as  humanity  is  moved  to-day.  Their  strongest 
social  ties  were  with  the  Southern  people.  They  had  a 
great  part  of  their  wealth  invested  in  slaves ;  and,  while 
far  in  advance  of  the  States  to  the  south  of  them  in  the 
desire  for  some  plan  of  gradual  emancipation,  they  were 
not  willing  to  have  their  property  unceremoniously  jostled 
out  of  their  hands  without  compensation,  to  gratify  Mr. 
Lincoln,  Mr.    Seward,  Mr.  Sumner,  Mr.   Wade,  or  the 


THE   JOHN   BROWN   RAID  117 

constituencies  which  they  represented.  They  thought  the 
conditions  of  future  association  announced  by  these  men  a 
rather  high  and  hasty  price  for  the  privilege.  And,  lastly, 
their  very  love  of  the  Union  inflamed  them  against  men 
who,  as  they  viewed  it,  were  making  union  impossible, 
except  on  terms  involving  humiliating  surrender  to  the 
abolitionist. 

It  is  often  said  by  writers  that  Mr.  Lincoln  and  Mr. 
Seward,  when  they  spoke  of  a  divided  house,  the  im- 
possibility of  the  coexistence  of  union  and  slavery,  and 
the  "  irrepressible  conflict,"  were  simply  stating  abstract 
propositions,  and  did  not  mean  that  they  would  counsel 
a  physical  assault  upon  slavery  or  the  enactment  of 
unconstitutional  laws,  and  that  their  figures  of  speech 
referred  only  to  the  logic  of  the  political  situation.  Their 
language  may  have  been  intended  as  statements  of 
abstract  principles ;  but,  assuredly,  what  they  said  was 
susceptible  of,  and  received,  quite  another  construction. 
By  their  followers  and  opponents  they  were  understood  as 
declaring  war  on  slavery,  immediate  and  uncompromising. 

As  for  M^r.  Sumner  and  Mr.  Wade,  nobody  pretended 
that  they  meant  anything  else.  The  Southerners  may 
have  been  more  demonstrative  and  noisy  in  their  quarrels  ; 
but  they  were  not  a  whit  more  stubborn,  aggressive, 
defiant,  or  irritating  than  the  men  of  the  North.  The 
Southern  man  scoffed  the  pretense  that  the  Northern  man 
really  desired  union,  when  he  refused  to  subordinate  his 
demands  concerning  slavery  to  any  other  consideration. 
The  Northern  man  denounced  the  Southern  man  as  hat- 
ing the  Union,  because  he  would  not  consent  to  remain 
in  it,  even  if  he  believed  that  the  North,  while  professing 
the  purpose  of  respecting  his  right,  at  heart  intended  to 
deprive  him  of  his  slave  property  on  the  first  opportunity. 

This  political  warfare  was  very  intense  in  1858-59.    The 


118  THE  END  OF  AN  ERA 

debates  between  Lincoln  and  Douglas  on  the  slavery 
question,  in  the  autumn  of  1858,  kindled  the  fires  of 
slavery  and  anti-slavery  discussion  on  every  hilltop.  In 
1859,  the  awful  tragedy  in  which  Senator  Broderick  was 
killed  by  Judge  Terry  in  California,  in  a  duel  growing 
out  of  the  slavery  question,  lent  fuel  to  the  flame. 

Just  at  this  crisis  an  event  occurred,  which  was  made  a 
test,  in  the  mind  of  the  average  Virginian,  of  the  real  feel- 
ing of  the  North  towards  the  South.  After  it  happened,  he 
set  himself  to  determining  what  was  the  real  meaning, 
the  real  tendency,  and  what  was  to  be  the  outcome,  of  the 
doctrines  announced  by  Mr.  Lincoln,  Mr.  Seward,  Mr. 
Sumner,  and  others  during  the  years  1858  and  1859. 
He  believed  that  in  the  expressions  of  the  North,  concern- 
ing this  event,  he  would  find  the  best  evidence  of  what 
their  real  sentiments  were  towards  the  South. 

The  attack  of  John  Brown  upon  Harper's  Ferry  came 
upon  Virginia  like  a  clap  of  thunder  out  of  a  clear  sky. 

In  the  afternoon  of  October  17,  1859,  I  was  passing 
along  Main  Street  in  Richmond,  when  I  observed  a  crowd 
of  people  gathering  about  the  bulletin  board  of  a  news- 
paper. In  those  days,  news  did  not  travel  so  rapidly  as 
now ;  besides  which,  the  telegraph  lines  at  the  place  from 
which  the  news  came  were  cut. 

The  first  report  read  :  — 

"  There  is  trouble  of  some  sort  at  Harper's  Ferry.  A 
party  of  workmen  have  seized  the  Government  Armory." 

Soon  another  message  flashed  :  "  The  men  at  Harper's 
Ferry  are  not  workmen.  They  are  Kansas  border  ruffians, 
who  have  attacked  and  captured  the  place,  fired  upon  and 
killed  several  unarmed  citizens,  and  captured  Colonel 
Washington  and  other  prominent  citizens  of  the  neighbor- 
hood. We  cannot  understand  their  plans  or  ascertain 
their  numbers." 


THE   JOHN  BROWN   RAID  119 

By  this  time  an  immense  throng  had  assembled,  agape 
with  wonder. 

Naturally  reflecting  that  the  particulars  of  an  outbreak 
like  this  would  first  reach  the  governor,  I  darted  home- 
ward. I  found  my  father  in  the  library,  roused  from  his 
afternoon  siesta,  in  the  act  of  reading  the  telegrams  which 
he  had  just  received.  They  were  simply  to  the  effect 
that  the  arsenal  and  government  property  at  Harper's 
Ferry  were  in  possession  of  a  band  of  rioters,  without 
describing  their  character.  I  promptly  and  breathlessly 
told  what  I  had  seen  on  the  bulletin  boards,  and,  while  I 
was  hurriedly  delivering  my  news,  other  messengers  arrived 
with  telegrams  to  the  same  effect  as  those  posted  in  the 
streets.  The  governor  was  by  this  time  fully  aroused. 
He  was  prompt  in  action.  His  first  move  was  to  seize 
the  Virginia  code,  take  a  reference,  and  indite  a  telegram 
addressed  to  Colonel  John  Thomas  Gibson,  of  Charles- 
town,  commandant  of  the  militia  regiment  within  whose 
territory  the  invasion  had  occurred,  directing  him  to  order 
out,  for  the  defense  of  the  State,  the  militia  under  his 
command,  and  immediately  report  what  he  had  done. 

Within  ten  minutes  after  the  receipt  of  the  telegram, 
these  instructions  were  on  the  way.  Similar  instructions 
were  flashed  to  Colonel  Robert  W.  Baylor,  of  the  Third 
Regiment  of  Militia  Cavalry. 

The  military  system  of  the  State  was  utterly  inefficient, 
having  nothing  but  skeleton  organization.  The  telegrams 
continued  to  come  rapidly,  describing  a  condition  of  ex- 
citement amounting  to  a  panic  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Harper's  Ferry.  The  numbers  of  the  attacking  force 
were  exaggerated,  until  some  reports  placed  them  as  high 
as  a  thousand.  The  ramifications  of  the  conspiracy  were 
of  course  unknown. 

I  was  promptly  dispatched  to  summon  the  Secretary  of 


120  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

the  Commonwealth,  the  Adjutant-General,  and  the  colonel 
and  adjutant  of  the  First  Regiment.  I  found  almost  im- 
mediately all  but  the  adjutant,  for  whom  I  searched  long. 
At  last  this  young  gentleman  was  discovered,  all  uncon- 
scious of  impending  trouble,  playing  dominoes  in  a  Ger- 
man restaurant,  and  regaling  himself  with  the  then 
comparatively  new  drink  of  "  lager."  Hurrying  back 
with  my  last  capture,  we  found  the  others  assembled,  and 
instantly  the  adjutant  received  instructions  to  order  out 
the  First  Virginia  Regiment  at  eight  o'clock  P.  M.,  armed 
and  equipped,  and  provided  with  three  days'  rations,  at 
the  Washington  depot. 

In  those  days,  the  track  ran  down  the  centre  of  the 
street,  and  the  depot  was  in  the  most  popular  portion  of 
the  city.  News  of  the  disturbance  having  gone  abroad,  it 
was  an  easy  task  to  assemble  the  regiment ;  and,  by  the 
time  appointed,  all  Richmond  was  on  hand  to  learn  the 
true  meaning  of  the  outbreak,  and  witness  the  departure 
of  the  troops.  Company  after  company  marched  through 
the  streets  to  the  rendezvous.  The  governor  transferred 
his  headquarters  to  the  depot,  where  he  and  his  staff 
awaited  the  last  telegrams  which  might  arrive  before  his 
departure.  Telegrams  were  sent  to  the  President  and  to 
the  governor  of  Maryland  for  authority  to  pass  through 
the  District  of  Columbia  and  Maryland  with  armed 
troops,  that  route  being  the  quickest  to  Harper's  Ferry. 
The  dingy  old  depot,  generally  so  dark  and  gloomy  at 
this  hour  of  the  night,  was  brilliantly  illuminated.  The 
train  of  cars,  which  was  to  transfer  the  troops,  stood 
in  the  middle  of  the  street.  The  regiment  was  formed 
as  the  companies  arrived,  and  was  resting  in  the  badly 
lighted  street,  awaiting  final  orders. 

The  masses  of  the  populace  swarming  about  the  sol- 
diers presented  every  variety  of  excitement,  interest,  and 
curiosity. 


THE  JOHN   BROWN   RAID  121 

As  for  me,  my  "  mannishness  "  (there  is  no  other  word 
expressive  of  it)  was  such  that,  forgetting  what  an  insig- 
nificant chit  I  was,  I  actually  attempted  to  accompany  the 
troops. 

Transported  by  enthusiasm,  I  rushed  home,  donned  a 
little  blue  jacket  with  brass  buttons  and  a  navy  cap, 
selected  a  Virginia  rifle  nearly  half  as  tall  again  as  my- 
self, rigged  myself  with  a  powder-horn  and  bullets,  and, 
availing  myself  of  the  darkness,  crept  into  the  line  of 
K  Company.  The  file-closers  and  officers  knew  me,  and 
indulged  me  to  the  extent  of  not  interfering  with  me, 
never  doubting  the  matter  would  adjust  itself.  Other 
small  boys,  who  got  a  sight  of  me  standing  there,  were 
variously  affected.  Some  were  green  with  envy,  while 
others  ridiculed  me  with  pleasant  suggestions  concerning 
what  would  happen  when  father  caught  me. 

In  time,  the  order  to  embark  was  received.  I  came  to 
"  attention  "  with  the  others,'  went  through  the  orders, 
marched  into  the  car,  and  took  my  seat.  It  really  looked 
as  if  the  plan  was  to  succeed.*  Alas  and  alas  for  these 
hopes  !  One  incautious  utterance  had  thwarted  all  my 
plans.  When  I  went  home  to  caparison  myself  for  war, 
the  household  had  been  too  much  occupied  to  observe  my 
preparations.  I  succeeded  in  donning  my  improvised 
uniform,  secured  my  arms,  and  had  almost  reached  the 
outer  door  of  the  basement,  when  I  encountered  Lucy, 
one  of  the  slave  chambermaids. 

"  Hi !  Mars'  John.  Whar  is  you  gwine  ?  "  exclaimed 
Lucy,  surprised. 

"  To  Harper's  Ferry,"  was  the  proud  reply,  and  off  I 
sped. 

"  I  declar',  I  b'leeve  that  boy  thinks  hisself  a  man,  sho' 
'nuff,"  said  Lucy,  as  she  glided  into  the  house.  It  was 
not  long  before  she  told  Eliza,  the  housekeeper,  who  in 


122  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

turn  hurried  to  my  invalid  mother  with  the  news.  She 
summoned  Jim,  the  butler,  and  sent  him  to  father  with 
the  information. 

Now  Jim,  the  butler,  was  one  of  my  natural  enemies. 
However  the  Southern  man  may  have  been  master  of  the 
negro,  there  were  compensatory  processes  whereby  certain 
negroes  were  masters  of  their  masters'  children.  Never 
was  autocracy  more  absolute  than  that  of  a  Virginia  but- 
ler. Jim  may  have  been  father's  slave,  but  I  was  Jim's 
minion,  and  felt  it.  There  was  no  potentate  I  held  in 
greater  reverence,  no  tyrant  whose  mandates  I  heard  in 
greater  fear,  no  ogre  whose  grasp  I  should  have  felt  with 
greater  terror.  This  statement  may  not  be  fully  appreci- 
ated by  others,  but  will  touch  a  responsive  chord  in  the 
heart  of  every  Southern-bred  man  who  passed  his  youth  in 
a  household  where  "  Uncle  Charles,"  or  "  Uncle  Henry," 
or  "  Uncle  Washington,"  or  uncle  somebody,  wielded  the 
sceptre  of  authority  as  family  butler.  Ble^s  their  old  souls, 
dead  and  gone,  what  did  they  want  with  freedom  ?  They 
owned  and  commanded  everything  and  everybody  thai 
came  into  their  little  world.  Even  their  own  masters  and 
mistresses  were  dependent  upon  them  to  an  extent  that 
only  increased  their  sense  of  their  own  importance.  What 
Southern  boy  will  ever  forget  the  terrors  of  that  frown 
which  met  him  at  the  front  door  and  scanned  his  muddy 
foot-marks  on  the  marble  steps?  What  roar  was  ever 
more  terrible  —  what  grasp  more  icy  or  relerttlej^  —  than 
those  of  his  father's  butler  surprising  him  in  the  cake- 
box  or  the  preserve-jar  ?  What  criminal,  dragged  to  jus- 
tice, ever  appeared  before  the  court  more  thoroughly 
cowed  into  subjection  than  the  Southern  boy  led  before 
the  head  of  the  house  in  the  strong  grip  of  that  domestic 
despot  ? 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  the  governor,  on  hearing  Jim's 


THE   JOHN   BROWN   RAID  123 

report  of  my  escapade,  "  is  that  young  rascal  really  try- 
ing to  go  ?  Hunt  him  up,  Jim  !  Capture  him  !  Take 
away  his  arms,  and  march  him  home  in  front  of 
you  !  "  Laughing  heartily,  he  resumed  his  work,  well 
knowing  that  Jim  understood  his  orders  and  would  exe- 
cute them. 

Think  of  such  authority  given  to  a  negro,  just  when 
John  Brown  was  turning  the  heads  of  the  slaves  with 
ideas  of  their  own  importance  !  Is  it  not  monstrous  ?  I 
was  sitting  in  a  car,  enjoying  the  sense  of  being  my  coun- 
try's defender  starting  for  the  wars,  when  I  recognized  a 
well-known  voice  in  the  adjoining  car,  inquiring,  "  Gentle- 
men, is  any  ov  you  seed  anythin'  ov  de  Gov'ner's  little  boy 
about  here  ?  I  'm  a-lookin'  fur  him  under  orders  to  take 
him  home." 

I  shoved  my  long  squirrel-rifle  under  the  seats  and  fol- 
lowed it,  amid  the  laughter  of  those  about  me.  I  heard 
the  dread  footsteps  approach,  and  the  inquiry  repeated. 
No  voice  responded  ;  but,  by  the  silence  and  the  tittering, 
I  knew  I  was  betrayed.  A  great,  shiny  black  face,  with 
immense  whites  to  the  eyes,  peeped  almost  into  my  own, 
and,  with  a  broad  grin,  said,  "  Well,  I  declar'  !  Here 
you  is  at  las' !  Cum  out,  Mars'  John."  But  John  did 
not  come.  Jim,  after  coaxing  a  little,  seized  a  leg,  and, 
as  he  drew  me  forth,  clinging  to  my  long  rifle,  he  ex- 
claimed, "  Well,  'fore  de  Lord  !  how  much  gun  has  dat 
boy  got,  anyhow  ?  "  and  the  soldiers  went  wild  with  laugh- 
ter. 

In  full  possession  of  the  gun,  and  pushing  me  before 
him,  Jim  marched  his  prisoner  home.  Once  or  twice  I 
made  a  show  of  resistance,  but  it  was  in  vain.  "  Here, 
you  boy !  You  better  mind  how  you  cut  yo'  shines. 
You  must  er  lost  yo'  senses.  Yo'  father  told  me  to  take 
you  home.     I   gwine   do   it,  too,  you   understand?    Ef 


124  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

you  don't  mind,  I  '11  take  you  straight  to  him,  and  you 
know  and  I  know  dat  if  I  do,  he  '11  tare  you  up  alive  fur 
botherin'  him  with  yo'  foolishiss,  busy  ez  he  is."  I  real- 
ized that  it  was  even  so,  and,  sadly  crestfallen,  was  deliv- 
ered into  my  mother's  chamber,  where,  after  a  lecture 
upon  the  folly  of  my  course,  I  was  kept  until  the  Harper's 
Ferry  expedition  was  fairly  on  its  way. 

What  I  learned  of  events  at  Harper's  Ferry  was  de- 
rived from  the  testimony  of  others.  The  First  Virginia 
Regiment  reached  Washington ;  but,  on  arrival  there, 
the  Richmond  troops  returned,  in  consequence  of  the 
news  of  the  capture  of  all  the  insurgents  at  Harper's 
Ferry  by  the  United  States  Marines. 

This  mad  effort,  so  quickly  and  so  terribly  ended,  was 
in  itself  utterly  insignificant.  John  Brown,  its  leader, 
was  the  character  of  murderous  monomaniac  found  at 
the  hea'd  of  every  such  desperate  venture.  He  has  often 
been  described  as  a  Puritan  in  faith  and  in  type.  It  is  not 
the  province  of.  this  writer  to  inquire  into  the  correctness 
of  this  classification.  He  was  an  uncompromising,  blood- 
thirsty fanatic.  Born  in  the  year  1800,  he  lived  for  fifty- 
six  years  without  any  sort  of  prominence.  He  was  never 
successful  in  business  ventures,  had  farmed,  raised  sheep, 
experimented  in  grape  culture,  made  wine,  and  engaged 
in  growing  and  buying  wool.  At  one  time  in  his  life,  and 
up  to  a  period  not  long  before  his  death,  he  was  regarded 
as  an  infidel  by  his  associates,  although  at  the  time  of  his 
death  he  declared  himself  a  true  believer.  In  October, 
1855,  he  appeared  in  Kansas,  and  at  once  became  promi- 
nent as  a  leader  of  armed  bands  of  free-soilers.  On  his 
way  to  the  defense  of  Lawrence,  in  1856,  he  heard  of  the 
destruction  which  had  taken  place  there,  and  turned  back. 
He  resolved  to  avenge  the  acts  of  the  pro-slavery  horde. 
He  reckoned  up  that  five  free-soil  men  had  been  killed, 


THE  JOHN   BROWN   RAID  125 

and  resolved  that  their  blood  should  be  expiated  by  an 
equal  number  of  victims. 

"  Without  the  shedding  of  blood,  there  is  no  remission 
of  sins,"  was  a  favorite  text  with  Brown.  He  called  for 
volunteers  to  go  on  a  secret  expedition,  and  held  a  sort  of 
Druidical  conclave  before  starting  out.  Four  sons,  a  son- 
in-law,  and  two  others  accompanied  him.  He  had  a 
strange  power  of  imbuing  his  dupes  with  his  own  fanati- 
cism. When  he  avowed  his  purpose  to  massacre  the 
pro-slavery  men  living  on  Pottawatomie  Creek,  one  of  his 
followers  demurred.  Brown  said,  "  I  have  no  choice. 
It  has  been  decreed  by  Almighty  God  that  I  should  make 
an  example  of  these  men." 

On  Saturday  night,  May  24,  1856,  John  Brown  and 
his  band  visited  house  after  house  upon  Pottawatomie 
Creek,  and,  calling  man  after  man  from  his  bed,  murdered 
five  in  cold  blood.  They  first  visited  the  house  of  Doyle, 
and  compelled  a  father  and  two  sons  to  go  with  them. 
The  next  morning,  the  father  and  one  son  were  found 
dead  in  the  road  about  two  hundred  yards  from  the  house. 
The  father  was  "  shot  in  the  forehead  and  stabbed  in  the 
breast.  The  son's  head  was  cut  open,  and  there  was  a 
hole  in  his  jaw  as  though  made  by  a  knife."  The  other 
son  was  found  dead  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards 
away  in  the  grass,  "  his  fingers  cut  off  and  his  arms  cut 
off,  his  head  cut  open,  and  a  hole  in  his  breast." 

Then  they  went  to  Wilkinson's,  reaching  there  after 
midnight.  They  forced  open  the  door  and  ordered  him 
to  go  with  them.  His  wife  was  sick  and  helpless,  and 
begged  them  not  to  take  him  away.  Her  prayer  was  of 
no  avail.  The  next  day  Wilkinson  was  found  dead,  "  a 
gash  in  his  head  and  side." 

Their  next  victim  was  William  Sherman.  When  found 
in  the  morning,  his  "  skull  was  split  open  in  two  places, 


126  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

and  some  brains  were  washed  out.  A  large  hole  was  cut 
in  his  breast,  and  his  left  hand  was  cut  off,  except  a  little 
piece  of  skin  on  one  side."  The  execution  was  done  with 
short  cutlasses  brought  from  Ohio  by  Brown. 

"  It  was  said  that  on  the  next  morning,  when  the  old 
man  raised  his  hands  to  Heaven  to  ask  a  blessing,  they 
were  still  stained  with  the  dry  blood  of  his  victims."  x  In 
his  life  by  Sanborn  is  a  picture  of  him  made  about  this 
time.  It  represents  him  clean-shaven,  and  is,  no  doubt, 
the  best  picture  extant  by  which  to  study  the  physiog- 
nomy of  a  man  capable  of  these  things. 

The  tidings  of  these  executions  caused  a  cry  of  horror 
to  go  up,  even  in  bloody  Kansas.  The  squatters  on 
Pottawatomie  Creek,  without  distinction  of  party,  met 
together  and  denounced  the  outrage  and  its  perpetrators. 
The  free-state  men  everywhere  disavowed  such  methods. 
The  governor  sent  a  military  force  to  the  Pottawatomie 
to  discover  the  assassins.  The  border  ruffians  took  the 
field  to  avenge  the  massacre.  One  Pate,  feeling  sure 
"  Old  Brown,"  as  he  was  called,  was  the  author  of  the 
outrage,  went  in  search  of  him.  Brown  met  him,  gave 
battle,  and  captured  Pate  and  his  command. 

Kansas  was  in  a  state  of  civil  war ;  the  governor  or- 
dered all  armed  companies  to  disperse  ;  and  Colonel  Sum- 
ner, with  fifty  United  States  dragoons,  forced  Brown  to 
release  his  prisoners,  but,  although  a  United  States 
marshal  was  with  him,  made  no  arrests. 

This  gives  an  insight  into  the  character  of  John 
Brown,  "  the  martyr."  Drunk  with  blood,  inflamed  by 
the  death  of  one  of  his  sons  in  these  border  feuds, 
impelled  to  further  deeds  of  violence,  no  doubt,  by  the 
immunity  secured  from  those  committed  in  Kansas,  John 
Brown  began,  as  early  as  the  fall  of  1857,  in  far-away 

1  See  Rhodes's  History  of  the  United  States,  vol.  ii.  p.  162,  etc. 


THE  JOHN  BROWN   RAID  127 

Kansas,  to  formulate  his  plans  for  an  outbreak  in  Vir- 
ginia. His  confederate  Cook,  in  his  confession,  has 
left  the  whole  story. 

Inducing  Cook  and  eight  or  ten  others,  over  whom  he 
seems  to  have  possesed  complete  mastery,  to  join  him,  they 
started  east  to  attend  a  military  school,  as  it  was  said,  in 
Ashtabula  County,  Ohio.  The  party  united  at  Tabor,  Iowa ; 
there,  in  the  autumn  of  1857,  he  revealed  to  this  choice 
band  that  his  ultimate  destination  was  the  State  of  Vir- 
ginia. His  companions  demurred  at  first,  but  his  strong 
will  prevailed.  They  shipped  eastward  two  hundred 
Sharp's  rifles  that  had  been  sent  to  Tabor  for  his  Kansas 
enterprises  the  year  previous.  In  May,  1858,  Brown  held 
a  convention  in  Chatham,  Canada,  in  a  negro  church, 
with  a  negro  preacher  for  president,  and  adopted  a  con- 
stitution, which,  without  naming  any  territory  to  which 
it  was  to  apply,  said:  "We,  the  citizens  of  the  United 
States,  and  the  oppressed  people,  who,  etc.,  do  ordain 
and  establish  for  ourselves  the  following  provisional  con- 
stitution and  ordinances."  This  constitution,  drawn  up 
by  John  Brown,  and  adopted  by  himself  and  half  a 
dozen  whites,  and  as  many  more  negroes  in  Canada, 
provided  for  legislative,  executive,  and  judicial  branches 
of  his  government.  It  also  provided  for  treaties  of 
peace,  for  a  commander-in-chief,  for  communism  of  pro- 
perty, for  capturing  and  confiscating  property,  for  the 
treatment  of  prisoners,  and  for  many  absurd  things 
besides.  After  providing  for  the  slaughter  or  the  rob- 
bery of  nearly  everybody  in  the  United  States  who 
did  not  join  the  organization,  or  voluntarily  free  their 
slaves  and  agree  to  keep  the  peace,  it  culminated  in  a 
declaration :  — 

"  Art.  46.  The  foregoing  articles  shall  not  be  con- 
strued so  as  in  any  way  to  encourage  the  overthrow  of 


128  THE   END   OF  AN  ERA 

any  state  government,  or  of  the  general  government  of 
the  United  States,  and  look  to  no  dissolution  of  the 
Union,  but  simply  to  amendment  and  repeal,  and  our 
flag  shall  be  the  same  as  our  fathers  fought  under  in  the 
Revolution." 

No  one  can  read  the  absurd  jargon  and  believe  that 
it  was  the  product  of  the  same  brain.  Yet  the  last 
declaration  of  the  document  is  no  more  inconsistent  with 
the  facts  than  were  the  repeated  declarations  of  Brown, 
after  he  had  killed  a  number  of  people  at  Harper's 
Ferry,  that  he  proposed  no  violence.  Nor  was  it  a  whit 
more  absurd  than  the  pretended  loyalty  to  State  and 
country  of  those  who  applauded  his  career  of  murder 
and  robbery,  and  treason  both  state  and  national. 

From  May,  1858,  to  October,  1859,  Brown  pursued  his 
plans.  He  rented  a  farm  near  Harper's  Ferry,  and  there 
collected  his  arms  and  ammunition,  without  exciting  sus- 
picion. Delays  occurred  from  lack  of  funds,  etc.  An 
anonymous  letter  was  sent  to  the  Secretary  of  War,  in 
the  spring  of  1859,  revealing  his  plans  and  purposes,  but 
it  seems  to  have  made  no  impression,  although  the  Secre- 
tary of  War  was  a  Southern  man. 

Shortly  before  Brown  made  his  demonstration,  his 
cohorts,  to  the  number  of  twenty,  black  and  white, 
assembled  at  his  farmhouse,  and  Sunday  night,  October 
16,  1859,  they  descended  upon  Harper's  Ferry.  About 
10.30  p.  m.,  they  seized  and  captured  the  watchman  upon 
the  railroad  bridge  across  the  Potomac,  and  proceeded 
with  him  to  the  United  States  armory,  of  which  they  took 
possession.  Brown  then  sent  forth  a  party,  headed  by  his 
lieutenant,  Cook,  to  capture  Colonel  Lewis  Washington 
and  Mr.  Allstadt,  leading  citizens,  who  were  to  be  held  as 
hostages.  These  gentlemen  were  compelled  to  leave  their 
beds,  and  accompany  the  invaders.     Their  slaves,  to  the 


THE  JOHN  BROWN   RAID  129 

number  of  thirty,  were  also  compelled,  against  their 
will,  to  join  the  party.  Colonel  Washington  was  a  grand- 
nephew  of  George  Washington,  and  a  member  of  the 
staff  of  the  governor  of  Virginia. 

A  sword  of  Frederick  the  Great,  which  had  been  pre- 
sented to  George  Washington,  was  "  appropriated  "  for 
use  by  John  Brown.  At  this  point  we  are  introduced  to 
the  word  selected  by  Brown  as  descriptive  of  his  taking 
other  people's  property.  He  did  not  call  it  stealing,  or 
robbery,  or  violent  seizure.  He  invariably  referred  to  it 
as  "appropriating,"  and  he  pronounced  the  word  in  a 
peculiar  way,  —  putting  the  whole  emphasis  upon  the 
second  syllable,  as  if  it  were  a-prop-riating.  It  was  a 
favorite  and  oft-repeated  word  with  him.  Here  also  we  see, 
in  his  appropriating  the  sword  of  Frederick  the  Great  to 
be  worn  by  himself,  that  overshadowing  egotism  which 
was  one  of  his  most  prominent  characteristics,  —  the  inor- 
dinate vanity  of  lunacy. 

It  was  an  ill  omen  for  his  venture  that  the  first  person 
killed  by  his  band  in  the  early  morning  was  an  inoffen- 
sive colored  man,  a  porter  at  the  railroad  station,  who, 
being  ordered  to  stop  and  seeking  to  escape,  was  shot  as 
he  ran  away.  The  next  victim  was  a  citizen  killed  stand- 
ing in  his  own  door.  The  next,  a  graduate  of  West  Point, 
who,  having  heard  of  the  trouble  at  the  Ferry,  was  shot 
from  the  armory  as  he  rode  into  town  on  horseback 
armed  with  a  gun. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  consternation  which 
these  scenes  produced  among  the  citizens  of  Harper's 
Ferry. 

When  the  marines  had  completed  their  lawful  and 
proper  work  the  following  morning,  John  Brown  lay  on 
the  grass  desperately  wounded.  His  entire  party  was 
killed,  wounded,  or  captured,  and  the  dead  bodies  of  two 


130  THE  END   OF  AN   ERA 

of  his  sons  were  beside  him.  It  was  a  ghastly  ending 
of  a  horrid  venture.  As  has  been  truly  said  of  it  by  an 
eminent  Northern  historian  :  "  In  the  light  of  common 
sense,  the  plan  was  folly ;  from  a  military  point  of  view, 
it  was  absurd."  The  first  question  which  arises  in  the 
mind  of  every  one  is,  Did  John  Brown  know  the  nature 
of  his  own  acts?  As  far  as  man  may  answer  such  a 
question,  he  answered  it  himself  on  many  occasions. 

While  in  the  engine-house,  receiving  and  returning 
the  fire  of  the  marines,  one  of  his  prisoners,  Mr.  Dain- 
gerfield,  told  him  he  was  committing  treason.  One  of  his 
followers  spoke  up  and  said :  "  Captain  Brown,  are  we 
guilty  of  treason  in  what  we  are  doing  ?  I  did  not  so 
understand  it." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Brown,  and  coolly  kept  up  his  fire. 

When  examined  after  his  surrender,  and  upon  his  trial, 
he  said  he  fully  understood  the  nature  of  his  acts  and  the 
consequences,  and  peremptorily  refused  to  permit  any 
plea  of  lunacy  to  be  interposed  in  his  defense. 

John  Brown  was  tried  for  treason,  murder,  and  inciting 
slaves  to  insurrection.  His  trial  occupied  six  days.  He 
was  defended  by  able  counsel,  of  his  own  selection,  from 
Massachusetts  and  Ohio.  Every  witness  he  desired  sum- 
moned appeared.  The  evidence  of  his  guilt  was  over- 
whelming, and  he  was  sentenced  to  death.  Any  other' 
penalty  would  have  been  a  travesty  of  justice,  and  a  con- 
fession that  the  organized  governments  which  he  assailed 
were  mockeries,  affording  no  protection  to  their  citizens 
against  midnight  murder  and  assassination.  Did  the 
Virginians  exult  over  the  wretched  victim  of  his  own 
lawlessness  ?     NO ! 

The  "  New  York  Herald  "  published  the  account  of 
how  that  verdict  was  received  :  "  Not  the  slightest  sound 
was  heard  in  the  vast  crowd,  as  this  verdict  was  returned 


THE  JOHN  BROWN  RAID  131 

and  read;  not  the  slightest  expression  of  elation  or  tri- 
umph was  uttered  from  the  hundreds  present.  .  .  .  Nor 
was  this  strange  silence  interrupted  during  the  whole  of 
the  time  occupied  by  the  forms  of  the  court." 

When  Brown  was  asked  if  he  had  anything  to  say 
why  sentence  should  not  be  pronounced,  he  said  among 
other  things :  "  I  admire  the  truthfulness  and  candor  of 
the  greater  portion  of  the  witnesses  who  have  testified. 
...  I  feel  entirely  satisfied  with  the  treatment  I  have 
received  on  my  trial.  Considering  all  the  circumstances, 
it  has  been  more  generous  than  I  expected."  He  ad- 
mitted a  design  to  free  the  slaves,  but  denied  all  inten- 
tion to  commit  treason,  or  murder,  or  violence  in  so  doing, 
and  declared  that  in  what  he  had  done  he  felt  fully  justi- 
fied before  God  and  man. 

There  was  nothing  remarkable  or  unusual  in  talk  like 
this  by  a  man  like  that.  It  has  been  the  usual  jabber 
of  desperate,  unbalanced  egotists  and  law-breakers  since 
vanity,  ignorance,  and  fanaticism  produced  the  first 
assailant  of  organized  government.  It  was  heard  again 
when  Wilkes  Booth,  assassinating  Lincoln,  exclaimed: 
"  '  Sic  semper  tyrannis ! '  "  and  again,  when  Guiteau  slew 
Garfield,  claiming  that  he  served  his  country  in  commit- 
ting the  base  deed. 

The  Virginians  took  the  life  of  John  Brown  to  preserve  , 
*  their  own  lives,  and  the  lives  of  their  wives  and  children, 
from  destruction.     He   had,  indeed,  "  whetted   knives   of 
butchery "  for  them,  and  had  come  a  thousand  miles  to 
kill  people  who  had  never  heard  his  name. 

Yet,  when  the  majesty  of  the  law  was  vindicated,  they  did 
not  gloat  over  his  dead  body  or  mutilate  his  corpse,  as  he 
had  done  his  Kansas  victims.  They  did  not  boil  his  bones 
and  articulate  them  to  be  hung  in  a  public  museum.  When 
justice  was  satisfied,  his  body,  unmutilated,  was  delivered 


\ 


132  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

to  his  wife  to  bear  back  to  his  home,  and  she  is  a  witness 
to  the  fact  that  she  was  shown  all  the  sympathy,  all  the 
tenderness,  all  the  consideration,  of  which  the  awful  situa- 
tion admitted. 

When  the  Virginia  people  first  came  into  possession  of 
the  facts  of  the  John  Brown  fiasco,  they  did  not  believe 
the  outrage  had  been  promoted  or  would  be  justified  by 
any  considerable  number  of  sane,  law-abiding  people 
anywhere.  With  an  inborn  love  of  courage,  the  bearing 
of  John  Brown  was  so  fearless  throughout  that,  even  in 
their  anger  at  his  impotent  violence,  they  admired  his 
fortitude.  Even  the  governor  of  the  State  testified  to 
this.  Describing  his  appearance  as  he  lay  wounded 
before  him,  he  said  he  could  liken  his  attitude  to  nothing 
but  "a  broken-winged  hawk  lying  upon  his  back,  with 
fearless  eye,  and  talons  set  for  further  fight  if  need  be," 
and  such  was  undoubtedly  the  man ;  such  have  been 
many  others  like  him.  The  quality  of  perfect  courage, 
coupled  with  an  unbalanced  judgment,  narrow-minded- 
ness, and  fanaticism,  has  produced  a  hundred  characters 
in  history  like  Brown.  Pity,  pity,  pity  it  is  to  see  that 
splendid  quality  perverted  and  destroyed  by  such  fatal 
accompaniments.  It  was  with  a  genuine  sigh  of  admira- 
tion for  this  fortitude  that,  without  one  doubt  about  their 
duty,  the  Virginians  imposed  the  penalty  for  his  crime 
upon  John  Brown. 

To  one  who  knows  the  truth,  the  most  tantalizing 
reflections  upon  the  John  Brown  raid  are  these :  The  man 
who,  as  colonel  in  the  army  of  the  United  States, 
captured  Brown ;  the  governor  of  Virginia,  under  whose 
administration  he  was  justly  hung ;  ay,  a  majority  of 
the  people  of  Virginia  —  were  at  heart  opposed  to  slavery. 
Uninterrupted  by  madmen  like  Brown,  they  would  have 
accomplished,    in    good    time,   the    emancipation    of    the 


THE  JOHN   BROWN  RAID  133 

slave  without  the  awful  fratricidal  scenes  which  he  pre7 
cipitated.  Of  course  there  are  those  who  will  still  deny 
this,  and  conclusive  proof  is  impossible.  History  took  its 
course.  Yet  it  is  hard  that  one  madman  was  a*ble  to 
warp  that  course,  and  it  is  wrong  to  glorify  him  as  saint 
and  martyr,  while  men  infinitely  his  superiors  in  intellect, 
in  broad  philanthropy,  in  civilization,  and  his  equals  in 
moral  and  physical  courage,  were  driven  by  his  folly  into 
apparent  advocacy  of  slavery.  Neither  Colonel  Lee  nor 
the  governor  of  Virginia  were  champions  of  slavery. 
Both  rejoiced  at  its  final  overthrow,  even  at  the  great 
price  in  blood  and  treasure  at  which  it  was  accomplished. 
The  fanaticism  which  applauded  Brown's  acts  made  them 
feel  that  there  was  no  possible  peace  or  union  with  such 
people,  and  made  them  resolve  that,  sooner  than  submit 
to  such  savage  fraternity,  they  would  fight  for  freedom 
from  its  dictation,  its  taunts,  and  its  interference. 

When  Virginia  had  performed  her  duty  in  executing 
Brown,  her  next  step  was  to  inquire  what  sympathy  she 
received  in  the  hour  of  her  trial.  She  expected,  as  she 
had  a  right  to  expect,  that  the  North,  boasting  of  its 
superior  civilization  and  its  greater  regard  for  the  main- 
tenance of  the  laws  protecting  person  and  property, 
would  be  practically  unanimous  in  condemnation.  Even 
the  half-civilized  free-soilers  of  Kansas  had  denounced 
Brown's  barbarism. 

When  it  was  learned  that,  in  many  parts  of  the  North, 
churches  held  services  of  humiliation  and  prayer  ;  that 
bells  were  tolled ;  that  minute-guns  were  fired ;  that 
Brown  was  glorified  as  a  saint ;  that  even  in  the  legisla- 
ture of  Massachusetts,  eight  out  of  nineteen  senators 
had  voted  to  adjourn  at  the  time  of  his  execution ;  that 
Christian  ministers  had  been  parties  to  his  schemes  of 
assassination  and  robbery  ;  that  women  had  canonized  the 


134  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

bloodthirsty  old  lunatic  as  "  St.  John  the  Just ; "  that 
philanthropists  had  pronounced  him  "  most  truly  Chris- 
tian ;  "  that  Northern  poets  like  Whittier  and  Emerson 
and  Longfellow  were  writing  paneg}^rics  upon  him ;  that 
Wendell  Phillips  and  William  Lloyd  Garrison  approved 
his  life,  and  counted  him  a  martyr,  —  then  Virginians 
began  to  feel  that  an  "  irrepressible  conflict "  was  indeed 
upon  them.  Still,  they  waited  to  ascertain  how  wide- 
spread this  feeling  was. 

Horace  Greeley,  editor  of  the  "  New  York  Tribune," 
the  leading  Republican  journal  of  the  North,  contented 
himself  with  referring  to  Brown  and  his  followers  as 
"mistaken  men,"  but  added  that  he  would  "not  by  one 
reproachful  word  disturb  the  bloody  shrouds  wherein 
John  Brown  and  his  compatriots  are  sleeping."  John 
A.  Andrew,  of  Massachusetts,  presided  at  a  John  Brown 
meeting,  proclaiming  that  whether  the  enterprise  was 
wise  or  foolish,  John  Brown  himself  was  right.  The 
next  year,  Mr.  Andrew  was  elected  governor  of  Massa- 
chusetts. The  Northern  elections  in  the  month  succeeding 
John  Brown's  raid  showed  gains  to  the  Republicans  in 
the  North.  Lincoln  spoke  in  February,  1860,  at  Cooper 
Institute,  New  York.  His  comments  on  Brown  were 
looked  for  with  anxiety.  He  said  John  Brown's  effort 
was  "  peculiar  ;  "  and  while  he  characterized  it  as  absurd, 
he  had  no  word  of  censure.  Seward  spoke  soon  after- 
wards in  the  Senate.  He  was  a  man  of  more  refine- 
ment than  Lincoln.  He  represented  a  constituency  more 
highly  civilized,  and  one  in  which  a  greater  regard  for 
law  existed  than  in  the  West.  He  dared  to  say  that 
Brown  "  attempted  to  subvert  slavery  in  Virginia  by 
conspiracy,  ambush,  invasion,  and  force,"  and  to  add  that 
"  this  attempt  to  execute  an  unlawful  purpose  in  Vir- 
ginia  by  invasion,  involving  servile  war,  was  an  act  of 


THE  JOHN  BROWN  RAID  135 

sedition  and  treason,  and  criminal  in  just  the  extent  that 
it  affected  the  public  peace  and  was  destructive  of  human 
happiness  and  life." 

Seward's  detestation  of  slavery  was  more  widely  known 
than  Lincoln's.  Up  to  that  time,  he  had  no  formidable 
competitor  for  the  Republican  nomination  for  the  presi- 
dency. It  is  not  improbable  that,  in  the  then  excited 
state  of  Northern  feeling,  the  two  candid  admissions  above 
quoted  cost  him  the  nomination  for  the  presidency. 

While  these  scenes  were  being  enacted,  a  great  change 
of  feeling  took  place  in  Virginia  towards  the  people  of 
the  North  and  towards  the  Union  itself.  Virginians 
began  to  look  upon  the  people  of  the  North  as  hating 
them,  and  willing  to  see  them  assassinated  at  midnight  by 
their  own  slaves,  led  by  Northern  emissaries  ;  as  flinging 
aside  all  pretense  or  regard  for  laws  protecting  the  slave- 
owner ;  as  demanding  of  them  the  immediate  freeing  of 
their  slaves  ;  or  that  they  prepare  against  further  attacks 
like  Brown's,  backed  by  the  moral  and  pecuniary  support 
of  the  North. 

During  the  year  1860,  the  Virginians  began  to  organize 
and  arm  themselves  against  such  emergencies.  They  knew 
that,  while  James  Buchanan  was  President,  the  power  of  the 
federal  administration  could  be  relied  upon  to  suppress 
such  violence ;  but  they  also  knew  that  his  term  of  office 
was  nearly  at  an  end,  and  they  had  little  hope  of  such 
protection  if  the  federal  administration  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  Republicans.  While  the  State  was  still 
unprepared  to  secede,  her  citizens  were  a  unit  in  the 
resolve  that  Northern  fanatics,  who  thenceforth  appeared 
on  Virginia  soil  upon  any  such  mission  as  that  of  John 
Brown,  should  "  be  welcomed  with  bloody  hands  to  hos- 
pitable graves." 

When  the  troops  came  back  from  Harper's  Ferry,  they 


136  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

were  amply  supplied  with  songs.  The  first  and  most 
popular  was  one  upon  John  Brown,  sung  to  the  tune 
of  "  The  Happy  Land  of  Canaan."  It  had  a  number 
of  verses,  only  one  of  which  I  remember,  running  some- 
thing after  this  fashion :  — 

"  In  Harper's  Ferry  section,  there  was  an  insurrection, 
John  Brown  thought  tbe  niggers  would  sustain  him, 
But  old  master  Governor  Wise 
Put  his  specs  upon  his  eyes, 
And  he  landed  in  the  happy  land  of  Canaan. 

REFRAIN. 

"  Oh  me  !    Oh  my  I    The  Southern  boys  are  a-trainin', 
We  '11  take  a  piece  of  rope 
And  march  'em  up  a  slope, 
And  land  'em  in  the  happy  land  of  Canaan." 

It  is  surprising  how  popular  this  rigmarole  became 
through  the  South,  and  many  a  time  during  the  war  I 
heard  the  regiments,  as  they  marched,  sing  verses  from  it. 
It  is  in  contrast  with  the  solemn  swell  of  "  John  Brown's 
Body,"  as  rendered  by  the  Union  troops.  The  latter 
is  only  an  adaptation  of  a  favorite  camp-meeting  hymn 
which  I  often  heard  the  negroes  sing,  as  they  worked  in 
the  fields,  long  before  the  days  of  John  Brown.  The  old 
words  were :  — 

"  My  poor  body  lies  a-mouldering  in  the  clay, 
My  poor  body  lies  a-mouldering  in  the  clay, 
My  poor  body  lies  a-mouldering  in  the  clay, 
While  my  soul  goes  marching  on. 

REFRAIN. 

"  Glory,  glory,  hallelujah, 
Glory,  glory,  hallelujah, 
Glory,  glory,  hallelujah, 
As  my  soul  goes  marching  on." 


CHAPTER  X 

HOW   THE   "  SLAVE-DRIVERS  "   LIVED 

Our  life  during  the  year  1860  was  in  strange  contrast 
with  the  busy  and  exciting  scenes  of  1858  and  1859. 
Father's  term  of  office  expired  January  1,  I860,  He 
sold  his  plantation  in  Accomac,  and  bought  another  in  the 
county  of  Princess  Anne,  near  Norfolk.  This  change  was 
due  partly  to  domestic  and  partly  to  political  considera- 
tions. 

During  a  period  of  rebuilding  at  "  Rolleston,"  our  new 
home,  I  was  sent,  January  1,  1860,  to  live  with  a  favor- 
ite sister,  and  attend  a  private  school  presided  over  by 
the  parish  minister,  a  Master  of  Arts  of  the  University 
of  Virginia.  The  location  was  in  the  county  of  Gooch- 
land, about  twenty  miles  west  of  Richmond,  in  the  beauti- 
ful valley  of  the  upper  James. 

From  Lynchburg,  which  is  near  the  foot-hills  of  the 
Blue  Ridge,  the  James  River  courses  eastward  to  Rich- 
mond, a  distance  of  about  two  hundred  miles,  through  a 
valley  of  great  fertility  and  beauty.  The  width  of  this 
valley  seldom  exceeds  a  mile,  and  at  many  points  it  is 
much  narrower  than  that.  The  flat  lands  along  the 
course  of  the  stream  are  known  as  the  "  James  River  low 
grounds,"  an  expression  which  conveys  to  the  mind  of  the 
Virginian  an  idea  of  fatness  and  fecundity  such  as  others 
conceive  in  reading  of  the  valley  of  the  Nile.  About 
Lynchburg,  high  bluffs  hang  over  the  stream,  and  the  flat 
lands  are  narrow  and  small  in  extent ;  but  from  Howards- 


138  THE  END   OF  AN   ERA 

ville,  in  Albemarle,  to  Richmond,  a  hundred  miles  below, 
the  valley  broadens,  and  the  bluffs  grow  less  beetling  as 
the  gently  rolling  lands  of  lower  Piedmont  are  reached. 
In  general  characteristics,  the  section  resembles  the  val- 
leys of  the  Genesee  and  the  Mohawk  in  New  York,  with  a 
greater  luxuriance  of  woodland  and  more  extended  vistas. 

Upon  the  swelling  hills  overlooking  the  James  were 
built,  at  the  time  of  which  I  write,  for  a  distance  of  a 
hundred  ni&es  or  more,  the  homes  of  many  of  the  wealthi- 
est and  most  representative  people  of  our  State. 

No  railroad  penetrated  tlie  valley.  The  only  means 
provided  for  transporting  products  to  market  was  the 
James  River  and  Kanawha  Canal,  an  enterprise  projected 
by  General  Washington.  It  had  been  completed  as  far 
as  Lexington,  passing  through  the  Blue  Ridge  Mountains 
at  the  point  known  as  Balcony  Falls,  a  spot  suggestive  of 
the  Trosachs  pass  in  Scotland. 

For  their  own  transportation  up  and  down  the  valley, 
these  prosperous  folk  had  private  equipages  and  servants. 
When  the  distance  was  greater  than  a  day's  journey,  the 
home  of  some  friend,  generally  a  kinsman,  stood  wide 
open  for  their  entertainment.  The  canal  was  available 
upon  emergency  as  a  means  of  travel,  but  as  its  speed 
was  only  about  four  miles  an  hour,  few  of  the  grandees 
resorted  to  it.  A  fine  road  ran  along  the  foot-hills,  par- 
allel with  the  canal  and  river,  from  Richmond  to  Char- 
lottesville, often  keeping  companionship  for  a  mile  or  two 
with  the  route  of  the  canal.  The  hills  were  of  that  stiff 
red  clay  celebrated  afar  for  its  adaptability  to  corn  and 
tobacco ;  and  the  soil  of  the  low  grounds,  often  refreshed 
and  rejuvenated  by  the  overflow  of  the  James,  was  a  deep 
alluvial  deposit  of  chocolate  loam,  inexhaustible  in  rich- 
ness and  fertility,  and  producing  all  the  cereals  in  mar- 
velous abundance. 


HOW  THE   "SLAVE-DRIVERS"   LIVED  139 

Recalling  a  few  of  the  princely  dwellers  in  this  favored 
section,  one  remembers  the  Cabells  of  Nelson ;  the  Gaits 
of  Albemarle ;  the  Cockes  of  Fluvanna ;  the  Hubards  of 
Buckingham ;  the  Boilings  of  Boiling  Island  and  Boiling 
Hall ;  the  Harrisons  of  Ampthill,  and  Clifton,  and  Elk 
Hill ;  the  Hobsons  of  "  Howard's  Neck,"  and  "  Snowden," 
and  "  Eastwood  ;  "  the  Flemings  of  "  West  View ; "  the 
Rutherfords  of  "Rock  Castle;"  General  Philip  St. 
George  Cocke  of  "Belle  Mead;"  the  Skipwiths ;  the 
Logans  of  "  Dungeness ;  "  the  Seldens  of  "  Orapax  "  and 
of  "Norwood;  "  the  Warwicks;  the  Michaux  of  Michaux's 
Ferry  ;  the  Morsons  of  "  Dover ;  "  the  Seddons  of  "  Sabot 
Hill ;  "  the  Stanards  of  "  Bendover;  "  the  Aliens  of  "Tuck- 
ahoe  ; "  and  many  others  :  — 

"  Their  swords  are  rust, 
Their  bodies  dust ; 
Their  souls  are  with  the  saints,  we  trust." 

Scattered  along  the  valley,  owning  respectively  from 
seven  hundred  to  two  or  three  thousand  acres,  with  slaves 
enough  to  cultivate  twice  the  lands  they  owned,  they  were 
the  happiest  and  most  prosperous  community  in  all  Amer- 
ica ;  not  rolling  in  wealth,  like  the  sugar  cane  and  cotton 
planters  of  the  South,  yet  with  a  thousand  advantages 
over  them,  in  the  variety  of  their  productions,  in  the 
beauty  of  their  lands,  in  the  salubrity  of  their  climate,  in 
the  society  about  them,  and  in  their  access  to  the  outer 
world. 

The  home  of  my  sister  was  on  one  of  these  fine  James 
River  estates,  and  her  neighbors  were  of  the  most  highly 
cultivated  people  of  whom  that  region  boasted.  The 
plantation  had  been  purchased  from  Colonel  Trevillian, 
descendant  of  an  old  Huguenot  family,  and  its  name, 
"Eastwood,"  had  been  bestowed  by  its  former  owner, 
Peyton  Harrison.     My  brother-in-law,  after  an  education 


140  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

in  Europe,  had  essayed  business,  but  ill-health  compelled 
him  to  adopt  a  country  life.  The  house  stood  in  a  grove 
of  oaks  of  original  growth,  in  the  midst  of  an  extensive 
lawn  carpeted  with  greensward.  Behind  it  were  the  sta- 
bles, the  inclosures,  and  the  household  servants'  quarters. 
In  front,  half  a  mile  away,  were  the  low  grounds  and 
river ;  and  to  the  left  again,  half  a  mile  distant,  stood  the 
overseer's  house,  the  quarters  of  the  farm  hands,  and 
the  farm  stables.  Up  and  down  the  river  were  visible 
the  handsome  residences  of  the  neighbors.  On  remote 
hillsides  or  in  the  wooded  points,  one  saw,  here  and  there, 
great  barns  of  brick  or  wood  for  storing  wheat  or  corn, 
and  houses  where  tobacco  was  stripped  and  hung,  and 
smoked  and  dried,  and  pressed  into  hogsheads.  Intermi- 
nable lines  of  stone  or  post  and  oak  fences,  without  one 
missing  panel,  showed,  as  few  other  things  in  farming  do 
show,  the  prosperity  of  the  owners  of  these  lands.  Great 
fields  —  this  one  pale  green  with  winter  wheat,  this  sere 
and  brown  in  pasture  land,  this  red  with  newly  ploughed 
clods,  and  this  with  a  thousand  hillocks  whence  the 
tobacco  had  been  gleaned  —  were  spread  out  to  the  vision, 
clean  of  weeds  and  undergrowth,  and  cultivated  until  they 
looked  like  veritable  maps  of  agriculture. 

Near  at  hand,  or  far  away  upon  the  hillsides,  one  be- 
held the  working-bands  of  slaves,  well  clothed,  well  fed, 
and  differing  from  other  workmen,  as  we  see  them  now, 
chiefly  in  their  numbers  and  their  cheerfulness  and  their 
comfortable  clothing.  Remarkable  as  the  statement  may 
seem,  those  slaves,  over  whose  sad  fate  so  many  tears  have 
been  shed,  went  about  their  work  more  joyously  than  any 
laboring  people  I  ever  saw. 

Our  school  was  located  a  mile  away,  in  rear  of  the  river 
plantations,  upon  a  road  leading  to  what  was  known  as 
"  the  back  country."     A  little  church,  built  from  the  pri- 


HOW  THE   "SLAVE-DRIVERS"  LIVED  141 

vate  contributions  of  the  river  planters,  was  used  as  the 
schoolhouse.  It  was  near  the  parsonage.  That  point  was 
selected,  not  only  for  its  convenience  to  the  teacher,  but 
also  because  of  its  accessibility  to  the  children  of  the 
sinalhfr  farmers  in  this  "  back  country."  It  is  often  said 
that  antagonism  existed  between  this  humbler  class  of 
whites  and  the  wealthy  nabobs  living  upon  the  river. 
Perhaps  there  may  have  been  something  of  the  inevitable 
envy  which  the  less  fortunate  feel  everywhere  towards  the 
prosperous  and  great,  but  certain  it  is,  there  was  little 
manifestation  of  it  there.  The  wealthy  sought  in  every 
way  to  be  upon  good  terms  with  the  poor ;  and  one  of  the 
best  proofs  that  they  succeeded  is  found  in  the  fact  that, 
when  war  came,  the  two  stood  up  together  side  by  side, 
and  fought  and  slept  and  ate  and  died  together,  —  never 
thinking  of  which  was  rich  or  which  was  poor,  until  a  time 
when  such  as  survived  were  all  poor  together,  and  those 
who  had  always  been  poor  were  in  their  turn  the  more 
fortunate  of  the  two. 

Our  nearest  neighbors  were  the  Seddons,  —  one  of  the 
loveliest  families  of  people  that  ever  lived.  The  head  of 
the  house  was  a  gentleman  who,  after  a  thorough  educa- 
tion, had  achieved  distinction  at  the  bar  and  in  Congress, 
but,  owing  to  delicate  health,  had  retired  to  his  planta- 
tion. He  entertained  extreme  views  on  the  subjects  of 
slavery  and  the  nullification  doctrines  of  Calhoun ;  but 
for  years  he  had,  owing  to  precarious  health,  taken  no 
active  part  in  politics.  Polished  in  manners,  gentle  in 
his  bearing,  hospitable  and  considerate  in  all  things,  he 
captivated  visitors  to  his  home  as  soon  as  they  entered  it. 
And  in  whatever  he  failed,  his  wife  more  than  atoned 
for  it  by  her  graciousness.  She  was  the  accomplished 
heiress,  Sally  Bruce.  She  and  her  sister  Ellen,  both 
beautiful  in  person  and  in  character,  and  thoroughly  edu- 


142  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

cated,  took  Richmond  society  by  storm  upon  their  first 
appearance  there  in  the  40's,  and  succumbed  at  last  to 
the  blandishments  of  two  young  cousins,  married  them, 
bought  adjoining  plantations  in  Goochland,  and  were 
now  rearing  their  children  side  by  side.  Such  were  the 
families  of  Hon.  James  A.  Seddon  and  James  M.  Morson, 
Esq. 

Some  of  the  happiest  days  of  my  childhood,  some 
of  the  most  elevating,  purifying,  and  refining  hours  of 
all  my  life,  were  passed  in  these  two  households.  Both 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Seddon  were  accomplished  linguists,  and 
demanded  that  their  children  should  be  as  well  educated 
as  themselves.  Their  library  was  supplied  with  the  best 
thought  of  the  world,  and  the  course  of  literary  culture 
prescribed  by  them  for  their  children  was  not  only  com- 
prehensive, but  was  made  attractive  by  the  way  in  which 
it  was  pursued.  Often  the  evening  gatherings  of  the 
family  were  converted  into  reading  classes,  and,  with  the 
charming  voice  of  their  mother  added  to  the  attraction  of 
the  subject,  the  children  became  interested.  That  charm- 
ing voice  ?  Yes,  one  of  the  sweetest  that  ever  sang.  Not 
only  was  she  an  admirable  performer  upon  the  piano,  but 
when  she  sang,  accompanying  herself  upon  the  harp,  she 
was  a  very  nightingale.  Her  tender  Scotch  ballads  never 
were  surpassed  upon  the  stage. 

Love,  intellectuality,  refinement,  hospitality,  made  that 
home  an  abode  fit  for  the  most  favored  of  mortals ;  and 
her  care  for  their  welfare  made  "  Mis'  Sallie  "  the  ideal, 
in  the  minds  of  the  servants,  of  what  an  angel  would  be 
in  the  world  to  come.  The  children  ?  They  were  numer- 
ous as  the  teeth  in  a  comb.  Three  of  the  Seddon  boys, 
ranging  from  a  year  older  to  two  years  younger  than  my- 
self, were  my  sworn  allies.  Morning,  noon,  and  night,  we 
were  together.    Of  course  we  all  had  horses,  —  everybody 


HOW  THE   ''SLAVE-DRIVERS"  LIVED  143 

had  a  horse.  Often  the  three  Seddon  boys  rode  to  school 
upon  the  back  of  one  filly,  with  a  young  darkey  to  fetch 
her  home.  Their  route  brought  them  directly  past  the 
Eastwood  gate,  and  many  a  day  in  1860  that  blessed  filly 
took  upon  her  back  a  fifth  rider,  as  I  slipped  down  from 
the  gatepost  where  I  had  awaited  their  coming.  And 
many  a  head-punching  I  received  from  the  combined 
forces  of  the  Seddons  because  I  tickled  that  filly  in  the 
flank,  and  made  her  kick  until  she  tumbled  the  entire 
load,  four  white  boys  and  a  darkey,  into  the  muddy  road, 
and  then,  kicking  at  us,  scampered  away,  leaving  us  to 
fish  our  Horaces  and  Livys  and  Virgils  out  of  the  mud, 
and  walk  the  remainder  of  the  way  to  school. 

The  Morson  children,  first  cousins  of  the  Seddons,  were 
also  numerous ;  and  while  their  residence  was  at  a  little 
distance  from  ours,  the  families  were  frequently  together. 
At  school,  during  the  week,  plans  were  made  for  the 
afternoons  and  Saturdays,  and  we  ranged  the  whole 
country-side,  shooting,  or  riding,  or  visiting. 

A  favorite  amusement  was  excursions  up  the  canal  in 
our  own  boat,  drawn  by  our  own  team,  to  a  famous  fishing- 
place  at  "  Maiden's  Adventure  "  dam.  Thither  boys  and 
girls  repaired  together,  making  quite  a  boatload,  taking 
baskets  of  luncheon  and  spending  the  day. 

The  school-teacher,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Dudley,  was  an  effi- 
cient man,  who  demanded  that  his  pupils  should  study 
hard,  and  was  not  at  all  squeamish  about  the  proper  use 
of  hickory.  Notwithstanding  this,  he  was  popular,  and 
joined  in  the  sports  at  recess  with  genuine  zest.  One  of 
our  favorite  games  was  called  "  Germany,"  or  "  Cher- 
mony,"  in  which  a  paddle,  a  certain  number  of  holes  in  a 
row,  and  a  hard  rubber  ball  were  used.  Under  certain 
regulations,  each  player  claimed  a  hole  in  the  ground,  and, 
when  the  ball  went  into  it,  was  privileged  to  hit  some 


144  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

one  else  with  the  ball.  Mr.  Dudley  was  a  large,  fleshy 
man,  and  it  was  noticeable  that,  while  the  boys  were 
always  delighted  to  have  him  in  the  game,  he  was  hit 
about  twice  as  often  as  all  the  boys  put  together.  How- 
ever much  he  may  have  compelled  them  to  rub  themselves 
in  school,  the  boot  was  very  much  on  the  other  leg  in  these 
little  outside  pastimes ;  so  much  so,  that  Parson  Dudley, 
after  being  "  roasted  "  for  a  long  time,  appeared  to  lose 
his  enthusiasm  for  the  game. 

It  was  during  the  recess  hour,  on  a  bright  May  day  in 
1860,  that  a  boy  rode  by,  returning  perhaps  from  Rich- 
mond, and  gave  Mr.  Dudley  a  copy  of  a  newspaper.  No 
sooner  had  he  disposed  himself  comfortably  to  read  the 
news,  leaving  us  boys  to  our  diversions,  than  with  a  loud 
exclamation  he  broke  forth,  "  Ah !  that  settles  it.  I 
feared  as  much.  Abe  Lincoln  is  nominated  for  President. 
He  will  be  elected,  and  that  means  war." 

I,  who  was  now  in  my  fourteenth  year,  and  deeply 
interested  in  political  matters,  was  anxious  to  know  why 
Mr.  Lincoln's  election  portended  war  any  more  than  that 
of  any  one  else. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Dudley,  perfectly  sincere  in  every 
word  he  spoke,  "  Mr.  Seward  was  the  logical  candidate  of 
the  Republican  party,  entitled  to  the  nomination  by  supe- 
rior ability  and  by  long  service.  He  is  a  man  of  very 
pronounced  anti-slavery  views,  but  is  a  gentleman  by  birth 
and  association,  and  if  elected  President,  would  respect 
his  constitutional  obligations  and  the  rights  of  the  South- 
ern States.  Everybody  expected  him  to  be  the  nominee ; 
but  his  course  and  utterances  of  late,  especially  his  utter- 
ances concerning  old  John  Brown,  are  not  radical  enough 
to  suit  the  Black  Republicans.  On  the  other  hand,  this 
man  Lincoln  has  come  to  the  front,  venomous  and  vindic- 
tive enough  to  satisfy  the  most  rabid   abolitionist."     He 


HOW   THE   "SLAVE-DRIVERS"  LIVED  145 

then  proceeded  to  draw  a  picture  of  Lincoln  horrible 
enough.  He  told  how  he  was,  in  his  origin,  of  that  class 
of  low  whites  who  hate  gentlemen  because  they  are  gentle- 
men; how,  in  personal  appearance,  he  was  more  like  a 
gorilla  than  a  human  being  ;  how  he  possessed  the  arts  and 
cunning  of  the  demagogue  to  a  degree  sufficient  to  build 
himself  up  by  appealing  to  the  prejudices  of  his  own  class 
against  gentlemen ;  and  how,  in  his  joint  debates  with 
Douglas,  who  had  completely  overmastered  him,  he  had 
nevertheless  brought  himself  into  notice,  and  secured  the 
nomination  of  his  party,  by  going  far  beyond  other  lead- 
ers in  advocacy  of  radical  measures  against  slavery,  and 
in  abuse  of  the  South. 

That  settled  Abraham  Lincoln  with  me.  I  was  thor- 
oughly satisfied  that  no  such  man  ought  to  be  President ; 
but  I  could  not  yet  conceive  it  possible  that  such  a  mon- 
ster would  be  the  choice  of  a  majority  of  the  people  for 
President.  Lincoln's  nomination  did  not,  however,  inter- 
fere with  my  happiness  or  appetite.  In  fact,  I  had  faith 
in  the  triumph  of  Mr.  Lincoln's  opponents. 

A  few  days  after  this,  I  accompanied  my  sister  and 
brother-in-law  to  a  breakfast  at  the  Stanards'. 

In  course  of  conversation  at  table,  the  nomination  of 
Lincoln  was  discussed.  That  gave  rise  to  the  inquiry,  on 
the  part  of  our  hostess,  whether  her  guests  had  read  the 
remarkable  sermon  recently  delivered  in  the  city  of  New 
Orleans  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Palmer,  an  eminent  Presbyterian 
divine,  upon  "  The  Divine  Origin  of  Slavery."  As  none 
of  her  guests  had  seen  it,  and  all  expressed  the  desire  to 
do  so,  a  servant  was  sent  to  the  library  for  the  newspaper, 
and  one  of  the  company  proceeded  to  read  aloud  the  sali- 
ent points  of  Dr.  Palmer's  address.  Undoubtedly,  from  his 
standpoint,  the  great  minister  put  the  case  very  strongly. 
His   arguments  were,  however,  chiefly  based   upon   the 


146  THE  END   OF  AN   ERA 

divine  sanction  of  the  patriarchal  institutions  of  the  Old 
Testament.  I  was  not  a  profound  Biblical  scholar,  but  a 
number  of  very  good  women  had  spent  a  greal  deal  of 
time,  during  the  brief  space  of  my  life,  hammering  into 
my  head  portions  of  the  Old  Testament.  It  so  happened 
also  that  during  breakfast  that  morning  the  Mormon  doc- 
trines of  Brigham  Young  had  come  up  for  discussion, 
for  Brigham  was  much  in  evidence  then,  and  everybody, 
especially  the  ladies,  had  joined  in  denouncing  him  as 
monstrous. 

The  reading  of  Dr.  Palmer's  sermon  occupied  some 
time.  It  bored  me,  but  I  found  no  opportunity  to  escape. 
At  its  conclusion,  the  company  agreed  that  it  was  an 
able  and  conclusive  argument.  Mrs.  Stanard,  who  was  a 
witty  woman  given  to  facetious  remarks,  declared  a  pur- 
pose to  mail  a  copy  of  the  sermon  to  Abe  Lincoln.  I, 
who  was  inclined  to  be  pert  as  well  as  facetious,  proposed 
to  send  another  copy  to  Brigham  Young.  "  For,"  said 
I,  "  every  argument  of  Dr.  Palmer,  based  on  the  slavery 
of  the  Old  Testament,  is  equally  available  for  Brigham 
Young  in  support  of  polygamy ;  and  I  sympathize  with 
Brigham." 

It  is  unnecessary  to  add  that  the  assembled  guests,  in 
their  disgust  at  my  "  pertness,"  dropped  the  argument  on 
slavery. 

Soon  after  this  breakfast,  I  witnessed  the  first  parade 
of  the  Goochland  Troop.  The  John  Brown  invasion  had 
given  a  pronounced  impetus  to  the  military  spirit  of  Vir- 
ginia. In  almost  every  county,  new  military  organizations 
had  sprung  up.  As  the  Goochland  folk  were  rich,  owners 
of  fine  horseflesh,  and  every  man  of  them  a  horseman 
from  his  childhood,  it  was  natural  that  they  organized  a 
command  of  cavalry. 

During  the  winter,  the  plan  was  conceived.     The  first 


HOW  THE   "SLAVE-DRIVERS"   LIVED  147 

meeting  looking  to  its  consummation  was  held  at  February 
court.  The  preliminary  drilling  began  in  the  early  spring. 
And  now  in  May,  for  the  first  time,  the  troop  assembled 
in  full  uniform  for  drill  and  inspection.  Julien  Harrison, 
of  Elk  Hill  was  its  commandant.  Mr.  Hobson,  my  bro- 
ther-in-law, at  whose  house  I  lived,  was  the  first  lieutenant. 
The  company  was  composed  of  the  very  flower  of  the 
aristocracy  of  the  James  River  valley,  and  the  capital 
invested  in  the  arms,  uniforms,  and  the  horseflesh  of  the 
Goochland  Troop  would  have  equipped  a  regiment  of 
regulars. 

At  their  first  parade  and  review,  they  were  the  guests 
of  the  master  of  Eastwood.  Every  man  vied  with  every 
other  in  his  mount.  There  were  not  ten  horses  in  the 
company  less  than  three  quarters  thoroughbred.  It  was 
indeed  a  gallant  sight,  —  those  spirited  youngsters,  men, 
and  beasts.  The  uniforms  of  the  privates  were  fine 
enough  for  major-generals.  Their  arms  they  bought 
themselves,  —  the  carbines  and  pistols  from  Colt,  the 
sabres  from  Horstmann.  The  shabrack  of  a  Goochland 
trooper  cost  more  money  than  the  whole  equipment  of  a 
Confederate  cavalryman  three  years  later.  Little  did 
they  realize  then  that  within  a  year  they  would  be  part 
of  the  best  regiment  in  the  brigade  of  the  immortal  Stuart, 
and  that  they  would  pass  into  history  as  the  "  Black  Horse 
Cavalry,"  —  a  bugaboo  scarcely  less  terrible  to  the  imagina- 
tion of  their  foe  than  "  masked  batteries."  There  was,  in 
fact,  but  one  company  in  the  Confederacy  called  "  Black 
Horse  Troop,"  and  that  came  from  Fauquier  County ;  but 
they  were  counted  by  thousands  in  the  imagination  of  the 
Union  soldiers. 

Many  years  afterwards,  in  conversation  with  a  Union 
veteran,  something  was  said  of  handsome  cavalry.  He 
remarked  that  the  most  vivid  picture  of  a  perfect  soldier 


148  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

retained  by  his  mind  was  that  of  a  Confederate  cavalry 
officer  named  Captain  Julien  Harrison,  of  the  Fourth 
Virginia  Cavalry,  who  bore  a  flag  of  truce  in  1861  into 
the  Union  lines  at  Manassas. 

The  thing  which  most  impressed  itself  upon  me,  during 
my  residence  in  Goochland  in  1860,  was  the  marked  dif- 
ference between  slavery  upon  these  extensive  plantations 
and  slavery  as  it  existed  in  the  smaller  establishments 
which  I  had  theretofore  known.  It  could  not  be  truly 
said  of  these  people  that  they  were  cruel  to  their  slaves, 
but  it  was  certainly  true  that  the  relations  between  master 
and  slave  were  nothing  like  so  close  or  so  tender  as  those 
with  which  I  had  been  theretofore  familiar.  The  size  of 
the  plantations  and  the  number  of  slaves  were  such  that 
it  was  necessary  to  employ  farm  managers  or  overseers, 
and  to  have  separate  establishments,  removed  from  the 
mansion  house,  where  the  overseers  resided,  surrounded 
by  the  laborers  on  the  plantation. 

As  a  consequence,  the  master  and  his  family  saw  little 
of  this  class  of  servants,  and  the  servants  saw  and  knew 
little  of  the  master.  There  was  lacking  that  intimate 
acquaintance  and  sympathy  with  each  other  which  ameli- 
orated the  condition  of  the  slaves  where  the  farm  was 
small,  the  servants  few,  and  no  overseer  came  between 
master  and  servant. 

Wealthy  men,  too,  like  several  of  those  in  our  neighbor- 
hood, had  so  many  slaves  that  they  were  compelled  to  buy 
other  plantations  on  which  to  employ  them.  For  example, 
Mr.  Morson  owned  nearly  eight  hundred  negroes.  In 
order  to  sustain  them,  he  purchased  large  plantations  in 
Mississippi.  A  portion  of  his  time  was  passed  there  look- 
ing after  his  interests,  and  thither,  from  time  to  time,  it 
was,  in  the  nature  of  the  case,  necessary  to  transfer  some 
of  his  Virginia  slaves  ;  for  they  increased  rapidly,  and  the 


HOW   THE   "SLAVE-DRIVERS"   LIVED  149 

Virginia  plantation  could  furnish  employment  and  sus- 
tenance for  only  a  limited  number.  Such  transfers  were 
made  as  humanely  as  possible.  Families  were  removed 
together,  in  order  to  avoid  harassing  separations,  and  the 
change  bore  as  lightly  as  possible  upon  the  blacks.  But, 
after  all,  it  was  an  unsympathetic  proceeding ;  for  the 
negro  race  has  the  strongest  of  local  attachments,  and  old 
Virginia  was,  and  still  is,  the  dearest  spot  of  earth  to  the 
native  darkey. 

The  weeping  and  wailing  among  those  who  were  ordered 
South  was  pitiful.  Although  they  were  going  to  their 
master's  plantation,  it  was  in  a  strange  land  and  under 
the  government  of  unknown  people,  who  felt  none  of  the 
softening  influences  of  early  associations.  Above  all,  it 
was  without  regard  to  any  consideration  of  their  wishes  or 
their  prejudices,  and  the  expression  of  either  would  have 
been  vain. 

The  slaves  upon  our  place  presented  another  repulsive 
feature  of  the  institution.  The  master  and  mistress  were 
both  young  persons  of  pure,  elevated  Christian  lives,  in- 
capable of  brutality,  and  most  ambitious  to  deserve  and  to 
possess  the  loyal  love  of  their  slaves.  They  could  have 
had  no  country  establishment  without  the  possession  of 
slaves  ;  and,  both  being  members  of  large  families,  they 
could  not  hope  to  acquire  by  gift  a  sufficient  number  of 
slaves  to  carry  on  their  plantation.  As  a  consequence, 
they  were  compelled  to  buy  the  essential  quota.  These 
purchases  were  made  by  families,  as  far  as  possible,  but 
the  aggregate  was  made  up  of  negroes  who  came  from  dif- 
ferent places,  and  were  strangers  to  each  other.  Great  cir- 
cumspection was  exercised  in  the  effort  to  secure  the  proper 
kind  of  servants,  and  large  prices  were  paid  in  order  to 
secure  such.  But  everybody  knows  how  little  reliance  is  to 
be  placed  in  the  advance  characters  given  to  servants,  and 


150  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

how  often,  when  strange  servants  are  brought  together,  un- 
foreseen incompatibilities  of  temperament,  or  new  condi- 
tions, affect  them.  Thus  it  was  that  the  new  establishment 
at  "  Eastwood,"  wealthy  and  luxurious  as  it  seemed, 
had  its  troubles  and  its  trials  like  all  the  rest  of  the  world. 
The  darkeys  were  jealous  of  each  other.  The  ones  repre- 
sented as  marvels  of  diligence  and  obedience  turned  out 
to  be  lazy  and  impertinent.  And  so  it  went.  The  most 
flagrant  instance  of  this  kind  was  a  butler  named  Tom,  a 
handsome  fellow,  quick,  intelligent,  and  represented  as  a 
phenomenal  servant.  When  Tom  arrived,  he  was  a  joy 
and  a  comfort  to  master  and  mistress,  and  they  felt  that 
he  was  worth  the  $2500  they  had  paid  for  him.  In  a 
little  while,  Tom  appeared,  from  time  to  time,  in  a  condi- 
tion of  excitement  or  irritability  or  stupor,  and  his  con- 
duct was  exceedingly  perplexing.  Suspecting  liquor  as 
the  cause  of  his  strange  behavior,  strict  watch  was  kept 
upon  the  wine  cellar  and  the  sideboard,  but  no  liquor  was 
missed.  At  last,  Tom  developed  a  distinct  case  of  mania 
a  potu,  and  then  it  was  discovered  that  he  had  been 
steadily  imbibing  from  a  large  demijohn  of  alcohol  to 
which  he  had  access.  As  his  distemper  developed  an  in- 
clination to  knock  the  heads  off  his  fellow  servants,  male 
and  female,  on  the  slightest  provocation,  his  presence  made 
matters  very  uncomfortable  ;  and  while  his  first  offense 
was  overlooked  and  forgiven,  under  solemn  promises  of 
reform,  he  soon  relapsed  into  bad  habits,  and  became  so 
violent  that  it  was  necessary  to  have  him  seized  and  bound 
by  Alick  the  gardener  and  Ephraim  the  hostler,  in  order 
to  prevent  murder. 

Now,  what  would  our  humane  and  philanthropic  friend, 
Mrs.  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe,  think  of  a  case  like  this? 
And  how  would  the  dear  old  lady  have  disposed  of  it? 
This  was  one  of  many  of  the  perplexing  situations  of  sla- 


HOW   THE   "SLAVE-DRIVERS"   LIVED  151 

very.  There  was  nothing  to  do  with  Tom  but  to  sell  him 
with  all  his  infirmities  on  his  head.  Of  course  the  aboli- 
tionist will  say  it  was  awful ;  but  to  have  given  him  away 
would  have  been  imposing  upon  the  friend  to  whom  he 
was  presented,  and  to  set  him  free  was  offering  a  premium 
to  drunkenness  and  faithlessness.  Tom  shed  tears  of  re- 
pentance, and  the  family  shed  tears  of  regret  and  humilia- 
tion. But  as  there  were  young  children  and  women  all 
about  him,  —  women  and  children  of  his  own  race  as  well 
as  the  white  race,  —  and  as  he  was  liable  to  get  drunk 
and  violent,  and  to  knock  the  heads  off  of  any  or  all  of 
them  at  any  moment,  the  question  recurs  on  the  original 
proposition.     What  was  to  be  done  with  Tom  ? 

But  enough  of  these  instances.  This  and  many  others 
only  confirmed  me  in  the  opinion,  planted  when  I  saw  the 
sale  of  Martha  Ann,  and  growing  steadily  thereafter,  that 
slavery  was  an  accursed  business,  and  that  the  sooner  my 
people  were  relieved  of  it,  the  better. 

June  came,  and  with  it  the  end  of  the  school  term  and 
my  return  to  my  father's  home.  I  had  made  decided  ad- 
vances in  knowledge.  I  had  read  the  first  six  books  of 
Virgil ;  been  drilled  in  Racine  and  Moliere  and  Voltaire ; 
finished  Davies's  Legendre ;  and  was  fairly  embarked  in 
algebra,  besides  a  good  grounding  in  ancient  and  modern 
history  and  a  smattering  of  natural  philosophy. 

So  I  boxed  my  books,  packed  my  trunk,  gathered  to- 
gether my  effects,  —  including  my  gun,  with  which  I  had 
become  quite  proficient,  and  a  coop  containing  a  game- 
cock and  pullets  of  the  choicest  James  River  stock, — and 
hied  myself  homeward. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE   CALM   BEFORE   THE    STORM  —  THE    CLOUDBURST 

The  proverb  that  a  calm  precedes  a  storm  was  never 
better  illustrated  than  in  the  peaceful  days  of  the  sum- 
mer and  autumn  of  1860,  and  the  winter  of  1860-61. 

Our  new  home  opened  up  a  phase  of  existence  entirely 
different  from  any  I  had  theretofore  known.  Although 
it  was  within  five  miles  of  the  city  of  Norfolk,  which  was 
easily  reached  either  by  land  or  by  water,  Rolleston,  my 
father's  new  plantation,  was  as  secluded  a  spot  as  if  no 
city  had  been  within  a  hundred  miles.  It  was  the  ancient 
seat  of  the  Moseley  family,  one  of  the  oldest  in  the  State. 
Located  upon  the  eastern  branch  of  the  Elizabeth  River, 
it  embraced,  besides  a  broad  area  of  cultivation,  a  hand- 
some body  of  timber  of  original  growth,  running  from  the 
water's  edge  back  for  a  mile  or  more.  The  dwelling  and 
curtilage  were  near  the  river,  and  the  cultivated  land, 
which  was  on  its  easternmost  side,  was  bounded  by  a 
large  millpond.  Across  the  mouth  of  the  pond  a  dam 
was  erected,  with  floodgates  admitting  the  tide  and  con- 
fining it  at  high  water  for  the  use  of  a  gristmill. 

Beside  the  gristmill,  the  new  purchaser  erected  a  saw- 
mill on  the  woodland  tract  for  his  own  use  in  erecting 
new  buildings,  and  for  the  sale  of  lumber  in  the  adjacent 
city.  When  I  reached  the  place,  a  number  of  mechanics 
were  remodeling  the  dwelling,  and  building  new  farm- 
houses and  barns.  Every  boy  who  has  lived  on  a  farm 
knows  the  joys  of  the  youthful  heart  at  having  access  to 


THE  CALM  BEFORE  THE  STORM       153 

a  carpenter's  bench,  and  to  all  the  lumber  and  tools  and 
nails  he  wants. 

Besides  myself,  I  had  as  companions  and  playmates 
my  brother,  a  nephew  near  my  own  age,  a  white  boy,  — 
the  son  of  the  miller,  —  and  my  own  slave,  black  John. 
From  rosy  morn  till  dewy  eve,  during  all  the  vacation  of 
1860,  this  precious  company  was  busy  with  new  enter- 
prises. The  adjacent  waters  swarmed  with  fish  and  terra- 
pin and  crabs  and  oysters  and  clams,  and  every  variety  of 
sea  food.  The  fields  and  forests  and  marshes  abounded 
with  game.  The  Elizabeth  River  was  a  beautif ul  sheet  of 
water  for  sailing,  and  father  had  provided  himself  with 
the  stanchest  and  fastest  boats  to  be  obtained. 

The  milldam  and  pond  were  our  favorite  rallying^oint. 
There  we  anchored  our  craft,  and  fished  and  swam  and 
sailed  our  miniature  boats,  and  engaged  in  the  many  pas- 
times which  make  boyhood  so  happy  a  period.  To-day, 
we  were  occupied,  busy  as  bees,  building  hen-houses.  To- 
morrow, the  all-engrossing  subject  was  a  new  boat,  devised 
and  constructed  by  ourselves.  Another  time,  we  might  be 
seen,  all  hands,  riding  the  high  side  of  our  fastest  boat  in 
a  clipping  sail  to  Norfolk,  and,  again,  bending  to  the  oars 
like  tried  seamen,  rowing  homeward  in  a  calm.  To-day 
would  be  devoted  to  fishing  in  deep  water,  to-morrow  to 
crabbing  on  the  shoals  ;  another  time,  to  setting  weir  mats 
across  the  mouths  of  the  little  estuaries  to  catch  "  fat- 
backs  "  or  jumping  mullets  when  the  tide  went  out ;  and 
another  time,  the  whole  company  would  be  busy  baiting 
and  sinking  terrapin  traps.  Sometimes  we  would  drive 
away  in  the  farm-carts  to  Lambert's  or  Garrison's  Fishing 
Shores,  ten  miles  away  upon  the  Chesapeake  Bay,  to 
seine-hauling,  from  which  we  would  return  at  evening, 
our  carts  loaded  down  with  fish  for  salting  and  use  during 
the  winter  season.     On  other  days,  we  made  up  fishing 


154  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

excursions  in  our  sloop,  the  Know-Nothing,  down  to 
the  deep  waters  of  Hampton  Roads,  for  sea  trout  and 
sheepshead.  Every  day  had  its  new  and  busy  occupation 
and  delight,  and  for  several  months  we  never  put  shoes 
upon  our  feet,  save  when  we  were  called  upon  to  visit  the 
city.  With  great  straw  hats  and  brown-linen  shirts,  and 
trousers  rolled  up  above  our  knees,  we  were  almost  am- 
phibians, and  were  sunburnt  as  brown  as  Indians. 

It  may  not  have  been  a  period  of  great  intellectual 
growth,  but  it  certainly  was  a  time  in  which  our  physical 
health  was  highly  developed,  and  the  qualities  of  enter- 
prise and  self-reliance  were  highly  stimulated. 

In  the  month  of  August,  the  Great  Eastern,  the  largest 
ship  then  afloat,  came  to  Hampton  Roads,  which  was  the 
signal  for  a  general  holiday,  and  everybody  who  was 
anybody,  far  and  near,  went  to  visit  her.  We  went 
down  the  harbor  with  Captain  Oliver  upon  our  sloop, 
the  Know-Nothing,  to  inspect  the  English  monster.  From 
the  city  to  the  Roads  where  the  Great  Eastern  lay,  ten 
miles  below,  the  waters  of  Norfolk  harbor  were  alive  with 
river-craft,  crowding  all  sails  and  decked  in  their  best 
bunting,  firing  small  cannon  and  waving  salutes.  We 
had  bent  the  racing-sails  of  the  Know-Nothing  for  the 
occasion,  and  she  showed  her  heels  not  only  to  the  vessels 
of  her  own  class,  but  to  many  far  larger  than  herself.  I 
was  very  proud  of  being  one  of  the  company  of  the  smart- 
est craft  in  Norfolk  waters. 

The  Great  Eastern,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  an  im- 
mense ship,  of  a  length  and  size  never  since  equaled, 
unless  it  be  by  the  new  steamer  Oceanic,  now  under  con- 
struction. She  was  680  feet  in  length,  with  a  width  of 
beam  of  over  80  feet,  and  a  draft  of  27  feet  of  water. 
Her  contrast  with  other  ships  of  that  time  was,  however, 
much  greater  than  it  would  be  with  the  ships  of  to-day. 


THE  CALM  BEFORE  THE  STORM       155 

In  general  outline,  she  was,  of  course,  very  much  like 
other  vessels  of  her  kind.  When  she  first  came  in  view, 
I  felt  disappointed  ;  for  there  were  no  other  objects  near 
her  with  which  to  contrast  her.  But  after  a  large  steamer 
of  the  Old  Dominion  line  passed  the  Know-Nothing  on  the 
way  down  the  harbor,  looming  high  above  us,  and  rocking 
us  in  her  wake  until  our  washboards  were  almost  sub- 
merged, and  then  passed  on  towards  the  Great  Eastern, 
where,  by  the  side  of  the  latter,  she  appeared  to  be  no 
larger  than  a  tug,  I  began  to  realize  the  size  of  the  mag- 
nificent newcomer.  When  the  Know-Nothing  sailed  up 
and  around  the  visitor,  her  topmast  not  five  feet  above 
the  rail  of  the  Great  Eastern,  the  matter  grew  plainer  ; 
and  when  our  party  boarded  the  Great  Eastern  and 
traversed  the  great  spaces  within,  I  found  it  difficult  to 
realize  that  she  was  the  work  of  men,  or  that  the  colossal 
whole  moved  and  was  directed  in  every  motion  by  the 
control  of  one  human  mind. 

While  the  ship  proved  a  failure,  the  ideas  first  advanced 
in  her  were  developed  and  applied  to  other  ventures,  in 
such  a  manner  that  she  produced  a  revolution  in  the  con- 
struction of  ships  for  merchant  marine  service,  little  less 
marked  than  that  in  naval  warfare  resulting  from  the 
conflict  in  Hampton  Roads  two  years  later. 

The  visit  of  the  Prince  of  Wales  to  America  occurred 
about  the  same  time  as  the  arrival  of  the  Great  Eastern. 

I  was  to  remain  at  home  during  the  next  school  year. 
One  of  our  neighbors,  with  a  large  family,  had  secured 
the  services  of  a  young  university  graduate  as  private 
tutor,  and  I  was  to  attend  his  school,  about  two  miles  dis- 
tant. Consequently,  early  in  September,  T  went  to  Gooch- 
land to  bring  back  some  schoolbooks  and  other  belong- 
ings. It  was  on  this  visit  that  I  happened  to  be  in 
Richmond  at  the  time  of  the  visit  of  the  Prince  of  Wales, 


156  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

and  was  in  St.  Paul's  Church  upon  the  Sunday  when  the 
prince  attended  divine  worship  there. 

During  our  residence  in  Richmond,  many  eminent  Eng- 
lishmen had  visited  the  city  from  time  to  time,  and  a 
mere  English  lord  was  no  very  great  sight ;  but  my  inter- 
est was  most  decided  in  a  British  heir-apparent  not  much 
older  than  myself. 

The  young  fellow  was  a  typical  Anglo-Saxon.  His 
tawny  hair,  fair  complexion,  and  blue  eyes  were  exactly 
what  one  familiar  with  the  type  would  have  expected  to 
see.  At  that  time,  he  was  rather  slight  in  build,  and  did 
not  display  the  best  of  physical  development.  His  shoul- 
ders were  drooping,  and  his  hips  rather  broad ;  his  move- 
ments were  awkward,  and  his  manner  altogether  boyish. 
I  had  no  opportunity  to  converse  with  him,  for,  being  a 
small  boy,  I  secured  no  introduction ;  but  I  saw  him  sev- 
eral times,  and  wondered  at  the  deference  shown  to  him 
by  the  distinguished-looking  old  gentlemen  who  were  his 
traveling  companions,  as  well  as  by  several  of  the  leading 
citizens,  friends  of  my  father,  by  whom  the  prince  was 
entertained. 

One  who  saw  him  in  1860  would  fir  1  it  difficult  to 
discover  in  the  stout,  bald,  elderly,  well-fed  man  of  the 
world,  still  known  as  the  Prince  of  Wales,  whom  I  saw 
in  London  several  years  ago,  any  trace  of  the  awkward 
boy  who  visited  Richmond  in  1860. 

Never  had  boy  more  glorious  liberty  or  greater  vari- 
ety of  sport,  and  never  did  reckless  youth  pursue  its  bent 
more  indifferent  to  the  graver  affairs  going  on  about  it. 
One  day  in  October,  I  drove  into  Norfolk,  and,  seeing  a 
great  crowd  assembled,  paused  and  heard  part  of  a  speech 
by  Stephen  A.  Douglas.  I  was  greatly  impressed  by  his 
tremendous  voice,  every  tone  of  which  reached  me  more 
than  a  block  away,  and  I  loudly  applauded  his  Union  sen- 


THE  CALM  BEFORE  THE  STORM  157 

timents.  But  having  obtained  the  supply  of  powder  and 
shot  I  needed,  I  soon  forgot  Douglas.  Not  long  after- 
wards, I  heard,  without  its  making  a  great  impression 
upon  me,  that  on  one  of  those  gorgeous  November  days 
Douglas  had  been  defeated  for  President,  and  Abraham 
Lincoln  had  been  elected  President  of  the  United  States. 
More  than  once  I  heard,  without  believing  it,  that  there 
was  serious  and  imminent  danger  of  civil  war  as  a  re- 
sult. "  Let  it  come,"  was  my  only  reflection  ;  "  who  's 
afraid  ?  " 

Before  the  close  of  the  year  1860,  many  men  from 
Southern  States  rode  out  to  Rolleston  from  Norfolk  to 
visit  and  confer  with  father  about  the  course  Virginia 
would  pursue  in  view  of  that  of  South  Carolina  and 
other  States.  Some  of  them  remained  to  meals,  and 
some  stayed  overnight,  and  so  I  heard  their  conversa- 
tions. Some  of  them  had  new  and  strange  flags  pinned 
upon  their  lapels,  or  little  palmetto  rosettes,  which  they 
gave  me.  When  I  visited  the  city,  I  heard  new  tunes 
like  "  Dixie  "  and  "  The  Bonnie  Blue  Flag  ;  "  and  men 
said  that  Virginia  would  secede  with  other  Southern 
States.  But  father  still  declared  that  he  was  opposed  to 
secession,  and  oelieved  that,  if  any  fight  was  necessary, 
the  South  should  "  fight  in  the  Union."  I  did  not  know 
what  it  all  meant,  and  did  not  believe  it  could  result  in 
actual  war,  and  in  fact  had  become  so  engrossed  in  the 
pleasures  of  life  at  Rolleston  that  I  gave  little  attention 
to  aught  else  but  the  pursuit  of  my  boyish  diversions. 

I  was  a  little  over  fourteen  years  of  age  when  the  civil 
war  began.  No  pair  of  eyes  and  ears  in  all  America 
were  more  alert  than  mine.  Every  event,  as  it  wound  off 
the  reel  of  time,  excited  my  most  intense  interest,  and 
made  its  indelible  impression. 

As  State  after  State  passed  ordinances  of  secession,  the 


158  THE  END   OF  AN   ERA 

disunion  sentiment  gained  ground  in  Virginia.  Father 
was  hotly  opposed  to  secession,  but  he  always  coupled 
that  declaration  with  the  further  one  that  he  was  equally 
opposed  to  Northern  coercion. 

The  Virginia  legislature  called  a  convention  to  consider 
what  course  the  State  should  take  in  the  impending  crisis. 
The  election  for  delegate  from  our  county,  Princess  Anne, 
was  exciting,  and  the  result  was  in  great  doubt.  Father 
was  a  candidate,  opposed  by  Edgar  Burroughs,  Esq.,  a 
popular  and  outspoken  Union  man.  Mr.  Burroughs  was 
a  native  of  the  county,  had  a  large  family  connection,  and 
was  supported  by  a  strong  following,  who  wanted  neither 
secession  nor  fighting.  It  required  all  the  prestige  of  my 
father's  name,  and  a  careful  declaration  of  his  modified 
views  upon  secession,  to  elect  him,  and  he  was  returned 
by  a  small  majority. 

Poor  Burroughs,  like  many  another  who  resisted  seces- 
sion to  the  last,  went  into  the  Confederate  service,  and 
sacrificed  his  life  for  his  State. 

The  convention  remained  in  session  a  long  time  before 
it  took  decisive  action.  When  it  assembled,  it  was  com- 
posed of  a  safe  majority  of  Union  men,  and  a  minority  of 
secessionists.  My  father  held  unique  views,  and  had  a 
very  small  following.  Opposing  secession,  he  at  the  same 
time  advocated  preparations  by  the  State  for  defense 
against  what  he  considered  the  threatened  aggression  of 
the  federal  government.  In  his  own  book,  "  Seven  De- 
cades of  the  Union,"  he  has  fully  set  forth  what  he  meant 
when  he  advocated  "fighting  in  the  Union."  It  is  suffi- 
cient to  say  that,  at  the  time,  his  views  were  regarded  as 
impracticable,  and  that  he  failed  to  impress  them  upon 
the  body,  or  to  gain  any  considerable  following. 

The  issue  seemed  likely  to  be  decided  in  favor  of  the 
Union  men,  until  the  occurrence  of  two  events  which  pre- 


THE  CALM  BEFORE  THE  STORM       159 

cipitated  secession.  The  first  of  these  was  the  firing  upon 
Fort  Sumter.  The  second  was  the  call  issued  by  Presi- 
dent Lincoln  upon  the  States,  Virginia  included,  for  troops 
to  suppress  the  rebellion. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  Southern  leaders  fired  upon 
Fort  Sumter  in  order  to  force  these  issues,  well  knowing 
that  Virginia  could  not  be  relied  upon  to  withdraw  from 
the  Union  in  any  other  way.  Whether  this  be  so  or  not, 
this  result  was  accomplished. 

The  Virginians  realized  that  they  had  come  to  the  part- 
ing of  the  roads.  The  question  presented  was  no  longer, 
Shall  we  fight  ?  War  was  flagrant.  The  only  question 
to  be  decided  was,  On  which  side  shall  we  fight  ? 

Virginia  was  reduced  to  the  alternative  of  furnishing 
her  quota  of  troops  to  the  Union,  or  of  refusing  to  do 
so,  which  was  the  equivalent  of  secession.  It  was  a  hard 
situation,  made  doubly  hard  by  the  fact  that,  even  at  the 
moment  when  these  things  happened,  a  peace  conference, 
presided  over  by  her  venerable  ex-President  John  Tyler, 
was  in  session  at  Washington,  vainly  endeavoring  to  bring 
about  a  bloodless  solution  of  the  trouble. 

Now,  however,  no  time  was  to  be  lost  in  further  negotia- 
tions. Indecision  in  such  a  crisis  would  have  been  little 
less  than  cowardice. 

One  by  one,  men  who  had  steadily  voted  with  the  Union 
men  transferred  their  support  to  the  secessionists.  Know- 
ing that  war  was  inevitable,  they  decided  to  fight  for  and 
with  their  friends.  The  ordinance  of  secession  was  passed 
three  days  after  Mr.  Lincoln's  call  for  troops ;  and  while 
the  schedule  provided  for  its  indorsement  by  the  people, 
the  march  of  events  was  so  rapid  that  popular  indorse- 
ment was  not  obtained  until  long  after  the  State  had 
taken  an  unmistakable  attitude  in  the  conflict. 

While  these  things  were  progressing,  I  visited  Norfolk 


160  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

daily  to  ascertain,  and  keep  the  family  informed  concern- 
ing, the  progress  of  public  affairs. 

From  the  time  Sumter  was  fired  upon,  and  Mr.  Lin- 
coln's proclamation  was  made  public,  business  was  almost 
entirely  suspended.  The  people  assembled  upon  the 
streets,  discussing  the  situation,  breathlessly  awaiting  the 
decision  of  the  convention  at  Richmond,  and  listening 
to  popular  harangues.  The  local  military,  anticipating 
the  result,  assembled,  and  paraded  the  streets  with  bands 
and  Southern  flags.  When  the  telegraph  flashed  the  an- 
nouncement that  the  secession  ordinance  had  been  passed, 
it  was  greeted  with  great  cheering,  the  firing  of  guns,  and 
every  demonstration  of  excited  enthusiasm. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  feelings  with  which  I 
saw  the  stars  and  stripes  hauled  down  from  the  custom 
house,  and  the  Virginia  state  flag  run  up  in  their  place. 
I  had  become  rampant  for  war,  but  never  until  then  had 
I  fully  realized  that  this  step  involved  making  the  old 
flag  under  which  I  was  born  in  Brazil,  and  which,  until 
now,  had  typified  to  me  everything  of  national  patriotism 
and  national  glory  on  land  and  sea,  henceforth  the  flag  of 
an  enemy. 

It  was  a  beautiful  spring  morning.  Across  the  harbor 
at  the  Gosport  Navy  Yard,  the  United  States  flag  still 
floated  from  the  garrison  flagstaff,  and  from  the  ships, 
—  the  Pennsylvania,  the  Cumberland,  the  Merrimac,  the 
Germantown,  the  Raritan,  and  others  whose  names  were 
famous  in  our  naval  annals.  Father  had  been  chairman 
of  the  Naval  Committee  of  the  House  of  Representatives 
for  many  years,  and  had  become,  while  minister  to  Brazil, 
personally  acquainted  with  nearly  all  the  prominent  naval 
officers.  Upon  those  ships,  lying  there,  were  many  men 
who,  but  a  short  time  before,  were  welcome  visitors  at  our 
home.     It  was  almost  incredible  that  the}r  were  now,  and 


THE  CALM  BEFORE  THE  STORM  161 

were  to  be  henceforth,  enemies,  or  that  they  might  at  any 
time  open  fire  upon  the  town  which  they  had  originally 
come  to  protect.  A  certain  Confederate  general  was  ridi- 
culed for  saying,  after  the  war  ended,  that  he  had  never 
seen  the  old  flag,  even  in  the  battle-front,  without  tears 
in  his  eyes.  That  was  doubtless  a  figure  of  speech.  It 
was  rather  hyperbolical  and  beyond  any  feeling  I  had ; 
but  I  can  understand  the  emotion  of  every  man  who,  hav- 
ing loved  and  honored  the  stars  and  stripes,  could  not 
bring  himself,  even  while  the  war  was  going  on,  to  hate 
them,  or  shut  out  from  his  remembrance  what  they  had 
been  to  him. 

The  day  after  the  State  seceded,  General  Taliaferro,  a 
militia  general,  arrived  at  Norfolk  and  assumed  command. 
Troops  from  the  South  began  to  arrive.  Among  them  I 
recall  particularly  the  Third  Alabama  Regiment,  one  of 
the  finest  bodies  of  military  I  ever  saw.  It  numbered 
full  one  thousand  men,  the  best  representatives  of  Mont- 
gomery, Selma,  Mobile,  and  other  places  in  Alabama.  It 
was  uniformed  like  the  New  York  Seventh  Regiment,  and 
commanded  by  Colonel  Lomax,  a  superb  soldier.  Those 
wealthy  young  fellows  of  the  Third  Alabama  brought  with 
them  not  less  than  one  hundred  servants,  and  their  impedi- 
ments were  more  than  was  carried  by  a  division  in  Lee's 
army  three  years  later. 

All  attention  was  concentrated  now  upon  the  navy  yards 
and  ships  in  possession  of  the  United  States.  The  advan- 
tage of  securing  the  latter  was  fully  understood.  No  less 
than  six  or  seven  vessels  were  sunk  in  the  channel  below 
the  city,  to  prevent  the  ships  from  passing  out.  A  demand 
for  the  evacuation  of  the  navy  yard  and  the  surrender  of 
the  ships  was,  it  was  understood,  made  by  General  Talia- 
ferro upon  Commodore  Paulding.  Friday  the  19th  and 
Saturday  the  20th  were  consumed  in  negotiations.    Satur- 


162  THE  END  OF  AN  ERA 

day,  a  party  of  Union  officers  landed  at  the  Roanoke  dock 
with  a  flag  of  truce,  and  proceeded  under  escort  to  Gen- 
eral Taliaferro's  headquarters  at  the  Atlantic  Hotel.  A 
long  conference  ensued,  and  then  they  returned  to  their 
ships.  The  fevered  populace  could  gain  no  information 
concerning  the  interview  or  its  probable  results. 

Meanwhile,  several  companies  of  local  military  pro- 
ceeded to  old  Fort  Norfolk,  which  was  on  our  side  of  the 
river  just  below  the  town,  and  removed  a  large  quantity 
of  ammunition  stored  there,  unprotected  by  the  Union 
troops.  That  ammunition  was  largely  used  in  the  first 
battle  of  Manassas,  which  occurred  three  months  later. 

It  was  nearly  dark,  Saturday,  April  20,  when,  despair- 
ing of  getting  further  information,  I  secured  my  horse 
and  vehicle,  bought  all  the  thrilling  newspaper  bulletins  I 
could  lay  hands  upon,  and,  tearing  myself  away  from  the 
excitement  of  the  town,  started  for  home.  The  erstwhile 
silent  woods  skii'ting  the  homeward  road  were  now  trans- 
formed into  camps.  Places  whose  deep  silence  at  night, 
in  time  of  peace,  had  been  broken  only  by  the  uncanny 
call  of  the  whippoorwill,  or  the  hooting  of  owls,  were 
lighted  up  with  camp-fires,  and  resounded  with  the  joyous 
laughter  of  the  soldiers,  the  calls  of  sentinels,  the  stroke 
of  the  axe,  or  the  singing  of  the  cooks  and  servants. 
Verily,  this  thing  called  war  was  a  fascinating  sport. 
My  heart  sickened  at  the  thought  that  it  would  probably 
all  be  over  before  I  was  old  enough  to  be  a  participant  in 
its  glorious  exhilaration. 

At  home,  the  family,  impatient  at  my  tardy  return,  de- 
voured every  item  of  news  in  the  papers,  and  hung  breath- 
less upon  every  report  of  what  was  going  forward  in  the 
city.  Thoroughly  fagged  out  by  excitement,  I  went  early 
to  bed,  wondering  "  What  next  ?  "  Things  happened  so 
fast  in  those  days  that,  as  soon  as  one  thing  occurred,  we 


THE  CALM  BEFORE  THE  STORM       163 

began  to  expect  something  else,  and  in  this  case  we 
were  not  disappointed.  Some  time  after  midnight,  the 
household  was  aroused  by  a  series  of  explosions  in  the 
direction  of  Norfolk,  and  on  going  out,  we  beheld  a  dense 
canopy  of  smoke  hanging  over  the  city,  illuminated  by 
fires,  and  flashing  almost  momentarily  with  the  light  of 
new  explosions.  It  was  easy  to  conjecture  the  meaning 
of  this.  The  United  States  forces  had  abandoned  and 
blown  up  the  Gosport  Navy  Yard.  I  was  keen  to  return 
at  once  to  the  city,  but  concluded  to  remain  until  day- 
light. 

The  next  morning  was  Sunday,  and  bright  and  early  I 
accompanied  a  party  of  our  workmen  in  our  sloop  to  the 
city.  What  a  sight  of  devastation  greeted  us  !  The  Penn- 
sylvania and  the  Merrimac  and  other  ships  had  been 
burned  to  the  water's  edge.  Some  of  their  guns  had 
been  loaded,  and  exploded  as  the  heat  of  the  fire  reached 
them,  but  fortunately  the  ships  had  listed  heavily  before 
the  discharge,  and  the  shots  had  gone  into  the  water  or 
high  over  the  town.  The  ship  sheds  were  all  destroyed. 
A  futile  effort  had  been  made  to  blow  up  the  dry  dock. 
The  barracks  and  officers'  quarters  and  the  machine  shops 
had  all  been  fired.  Some  of  these  fires  had  been  extin- 
guished, while  others  were  still  burning.  The  long  rows 
of  guns  in  the  navy  yard,  fifteen  hundred  in  all,  had  in 
many  instances  been  spiked,  or  disabled  by  breaking  their 
trunions  with  sledge-hammers.  Old  sails  and  clothing 
and  masses  of  papers  strewed  the  parade  ;  and,  altogether, 
it  was  marvelous  to  behold  what  destruction  and  disorder 
had  been  wrought  within  the  space  of  a  few  hours  where 
all  had  been  construction  and  perfect  order  for  many 
years. 

As  for  the  late  occupants,  the  following  were  the  facts : 
About  nine  o'clock  Saturday  night,  the  Pawnee  had  come 


164  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

up  from  Fortress  Monroe,  easily  passing  the  obstructions. 
She  doubtless  brought  the  orders  what  to  do.  After 
knocking  the  navy  yard  into  smithereens,  and  transferring 
all  the  valuable  papers  and  the  sailors  to  the  Pawnee  and 
Cumberland,  and  burning  the  Pennsylvania,  Merrimac, 
and  other  ships,  the  Pawnee  and  Cumberland  steamed 
down  the  harbor  to  Fortress  Monroe.  On  their  down- 
ward passage,  the  sailors  manned  the  yardarms,  and 
cheered  the  Union  flag,  as  it  was  lit  up  by  the  blaze  of 
the  burning  ships.  The  ease  with  which  these  vessels  had 
passed  the  obstructions  and  escaped  was  a  sore  disap- 
pointment to  the  Confederates.1 

We  spent  the  greater  portion  of  the  day  wandering 
about  through  the  abandoned  navy  yard,  and  inspecting 
the  first  real  devastation  of  war  which  we  had  yet  beheld. 
Little  did  we  realize  that  it  was  possible  to  rebuild  the 
dry  dock,  or  that  in  it,  out  of  the  charred  remains  of  the 
Merrimac,  would  be  constructed  a  ship  which  was  destined 
to  revolutionize  naval  warfare.  Still  less  did  we  realize 
that  this  scene  of  destruction  was,  as  contrasted  with  what 
we  were  yet  to  witness,  as  insignificant  as  the  burning 
of  a  country  smoke  house  beside  the  conflagration  of 
Moscow. 

Immediately  after  the  evacuation  of  Norfolk  by  the 
Union  forces,  the  fortification  of  the  harbor  began.  Bat- 
teries were  erected  at  Craney  Island,  Lambert's  Point, 
Sewell's  Point,  and  elsewhere.  Obstructions  were  placed 
in  the  harbor  to  prevent  the  return  of  Union  vessels. 
Long  lines  of  intrenchments  were  erected  in  rear  of  the 
city,  extending  from  the  eastern  branch  of  the  Elizabeth 
River  to  Tanner's  Creek.  The  military  forces  were  dis- 
tributed along  what  was  known  as  the  intrenched  camp, 

1  For  full  and  graphic  description  of  this,  see  Rebellion  Records, 
vol.  i.  Doc.  p.  119. 


THE  CALM  BEFORE  THE  STORM       165 

and  the  fashionable  amusement  of  the  time  was  to  visit 
the  various  encampments,  and  witness  the  drills  and 
parades. 

Our  house,  but  a  mile  or  two  beyond  the  lines,  was 
constantly  filled  with  visitors,  and  was  gay  beyond  all 
precedent. 

Almost  immediately  after  the  passage  of  the  secession 
ordinance,  father  received  a  commission  as  brigadier-gen- 
eral in  the  Confederate  service,  with  directions  to  repair  to 
West  Virginia,  recruit  and  organize  a  brigade,  and  pro- 
tect that  section  of  the  State  against  any  hostile  advance. 
His  preparations  for  departure  were  immediately  begun  ; 
and  I  was  desolate  at  learning  that  my  brother  Richard, 
now  seventeen,  was  recalled  from  William  and  Mary  Col- 
lege to  accompany  him  as  aid-de-camp. 

Just  before  their  departure,  the  family  was  roused  late 
one  night  by  a  loud  knocking  upon  the  door,  and  the  ap- 
pearance of  my  brother  Henry  and  two  cousins  who  lived 
upon  the  eastern  shore  peninsula.  My  brother  was  an 
Episcopal  minister,  and  had  been  up  to  this  time  in  charge 
of  a  church  in  West  Philadelphia.  He  was  exceedingly 
popular  with  his  congregation,  and  no  man  owed  parish- 
ioners more  for  love  and  kindness  than  he  did.  Hoping 
against  hope,  he  had  clung  to  his  charge,  thinking  that 
possibly  something  might  happen  to  avert  hostilities. 
Meanwhile,  the  feeling  there  had  become  intense. 

One  day,  having  occasion  to  visit  the  barber-shop  of  the 
Girard  House,  the  barber  by  some  means  discovered  who 
he  was,  and,  seeking  from  him  some  assurances  of  loyalty 
to  the  Union  which  he  could  not  conscientiously  give,  the 
barber  threw  down  his  razor,  and  refused  to  finish  shav- 
ing a  rebel.  Leaving  the  place,  as  a  crowd  was  assem- 
bling, he  hurried  homeward,  to  find  that  his  residence  had 
been  protected  from  a  mob  through  the  prudent  exhibi- 


166  THE  END  OF  AN  ERA 

tion  of  a  Union  flag  by  a  small  boy  whom  he  employed :, 
and,  under  advice  of  friends,  he  left  the  city  forthwith, 
and  journeyed  homeward  via  Wilmington,  Del.,  down 
the  eastern  shore  peninsula,  to  the  home  of  two  young 
cousins  in  Accomac.  They  joined  him,  and  the  three 
crossed  the  Chesapeake  Bay  in  a  small  boat  from  Cape 
Charles,  and  reached  our  home  as  described. 

My  brother  brought  us  the  first  tidings  we  had  for  a 
long  time  from  our  relatives  in  Philadelphia,  and  from 
his  description  they  had  become  as  intense  partisans  of 
the  Union  side  as  were  we  of  the  South.  Poor  fellow ! 
he  took  the  situation  very  much  to  heart.  While  loyal 
to  kith  and  kin,  he,  even  at  that  early  day,  declared  that 
we  did  not  know  the  power,  the  resources,  or  the  numbers 
of  our  adversaries,  and  that  the  struggle  of  the  South  for 
independence  was  hopeless  folly.  We  were  all  elated, 
and  felt  no  doubts  whatever.  We  were  disposed  to  regard 
him  as  controlled  in  his  feelings  by  his  deep  aversion  to 
parting  with  a  noble  and  devoted  congregation. 

A  few  days  later,  my  eldest  sister,  wife  of  Dr.  A.  Y.  P. 
Garnett,  of  Washington,  D.  C,  arrived  at  our  home  with 
her  family  of  children.  They  had  abandoned  their  home, 
and  reached  Richmond  on  one  of  the  last  trains  which 
came  through.  When  they  joined  us  at  Rolleston,  our 
family  was  a  very  large  one.  The  teacher  of  my  school 
volunteered,  and  the  school  closed.  My  father  and 
young  brother  Richard  departed  for  the  war  in  West 
Virginia. 

My  oldest  brother  Jennings  was  about  this  time  elected 
captain  of  the  Richmond  Light  Infantry  Blues,  a  volun- 
teer organization  founded  in  1793.  His  company  joined 
my  father's  forces,  and  became  A  Company,  Forty-sixth 
Virginia  Regiment,  of  Wise's  brigade. 

Bravely  and  gayly  they  all    sallied    forth   to  rendez- 


THE   CALM  BEFORE   THE   STORM  167 

vous  at  the  famous  White  Sulphur  Springs.  Thence, 
after  organizing-,  they  proceeded  to  Charleston  Kanawha. 
Every  report  from  our  own  was  watched  for  with  intense 
eagerness,  of  course,  but  the  things  occurring  near  at 
hand  were  of  the  most  exciting  character. 

After  the  evacuation  of  Norfolk  by  the  Union  forces, 
the  sound  of  cannon  was  almost  hourly  in  our  ears.  In  a 
few  days,  Craney  Island,  Sewell's  Point,  Lambert's  Point, 
Pig  Point,  and  other  places  commanding  the  entrance  of 
the  Elizabeth  and  Nansemond  rivers,  were  fully  fortified 
by  the  Confederates. 

At  these  points,  our  own  troops  were  constantly  exer- 
cised in  target  practice  ;  and  the  Union  forces  at  Fortress 
Monroe  and  the  Rip-Raps  (then  called  Fort  Calhoun, 
now  Fort  Wool),  and  the  Union  ships  in  Hampton  Roads 
and  the  Chesapeake  Bay,  were  engaged  in  similar  drills. 
At  times,  the  reports,  all  of  which  we  could  hear,  were 
so  loud  and  so  frequent  that  we  believed  an  engagement 
was  in  progress. 

Confederate  cavalry  patrolled  the  beach  of  the  Chesa- 
peake to  guard  against  the  landing  of  the  enemy  for  an 
attack  upon  Norfolk  in  rear.  Major  Edgar  Burroughs, 
my  father's  competitor  for  delegate  to  the  Secession  Con- 
vention, was  in  command  of  a  squadron  of  this  cavalry, 
encamped  near  Lynnhaven  Bay,  to  protect  the  seine- 
haulers  there  who  supplied  Norfolk  and  the  troops  with 
fish. 

The  camp  was  in  a  grove  of  live-oaks,  behind  the  sand 
dunes  on  the  beach,  but  must  have  been  visible  with 
glasses  to  those  op  the  ships,  and  was  easily  in  reach  of 
the  guns  of  the  Union  cruisers  constantly  moving  back 
and  forth  along  the  coast  between  Fortress  Monroe  and 
Cape  Henry.  Later  in  the  war,  that  camp  would  have 
been  instantly  bombarded ;   but  at  this  early  stage,  the 


168  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

combatants  were  not  altogether  prepared  to  kill  each 
other  on  sight. 

The  possibility  of  such  an  attack  was,  nevertheless,  suf- 
ficient to  make  the  place  very  attractive;  and  many  a 
day,  going  down  to  the  shore  under  pretext  of  securing 
fish  from  the  seines,  I  remained  in  the  cavalry  camp  all 
day,  often  watching  the  passing  Union  vessels  through 
field-glasses,  which  made  everything  and  everybody  upon 
them  plainly  visible.     .  - 

Then  came  the  insignificant  affair  at  Big  Bethel.  Ex- 
aggerated accounts  of  it  frenzied  us  with  joy.  "  The 
Happy  Land  of  Canaan  "  was  once  more  utilized  for  ver- 
sification, and  every  little  chap  of  my  acquaintance  went 
about  singing  :  — 

"  It  was  on  the  10th  of  June  that  the  Yankees  came  to  Bethel, 
They  thought  they  would  give  us  a  trainin', 
But  we  gave  'era  such  a  beatin' 
That  they  never  stopped  retreatin' 
Till  they  landed  in  the  Happy  Land  of  Canaan." 

My  poor  little  mare  Pocahontas  paid  heavily  for  all 
this  war  fervor.  Not  content  with  banging  away  half  the 
day  with  the  rifles  at  targets  erected  on  land  and  water,  I 
was  ambitious  also  to  become  a  cavalryman  and  a  lancer. 
We  had  tournament  every  day ;  that  is,  riding  at  a  run, 
trying  to  carry  off  suspended  rings  with  a  long  pole. 
Then  we  would  caparison  ourselves  with  sabres  and  dash 
at  dummy  heads.  In  these  exercises  the  riders  changed  ; 
but  the  horse  was  the  same,  and  no  doubt  Pocahontas  felt 
deep  regret  at  the  condition  of  affairs  which  gave  her  such 
constant  and  violent  exercise. 

Then  came  the  battle  of  Manassas.  Until  then,  I  had 
never  conceived  the  intensity  of  feeling,  the  exaltation  of 
exultation,  to  which  men  are  aroused  by  the  first  deep 
draught  of  blood  and  victory.     Fierceness,  as  we  know  it 


THE   CALM   BEFORE   THE   STORM  169 

in  peace  times,  is,  contrasted  with  human  war-passion,  as 
the  sweet  south  wind  beside  the  desert  simoom.  Around 
the  telegraph  offices  in  Norfolk,  great  throngs  of  citizens 
and  soldiers  stood,  roused  to  the  highest  pitch  of  excite- 
ment, as  bulletin  after  bulletin  was  read  aloud  announ- 
cing a  great  Confederate  triumph. 

Men  whose  names  had  never  been  heard  before  leaped 
at  one  bound  into  the  front  rank  of  the  world's  heroes, 
in  the  minds  of  that  delirious  audience.  Beauregard,  Joe 
Johnston,  Stonewall  Jackson,  Bee,  and  Bartow  were  the 
names  on  every  tongue.  The  magnitude  of  the  engage- 
ment was  represented  as  equal  to  the  greatest  of  ancient 
or  modern  battles.  The  throngs  gloated  in  the  stories  of 
unprecedented  carnage.  One  telegram  announced  a  field 
so  covered  with  the  dead  bodies  of  gayly  dressed  Union 
Zouaves  that  it  resembled  a  French  poppy  farm.  The 
conduct  of  the  Southern  troops  was  represented  as  sur- 
passingly brave  and  chivalric,  while  that  of  "  the  Yan- 
kees "  was  referred  to  as  correspondingly  base  and  cow- 
ardly. The  boast  that  one  Southerner  could  whip  ten 
Yankees  seemed  fully  verified.  The  prediction  followed 
that  within  a  month  the  Southern  army  would  be  encamped 
about  New  York,  and  that  it  would  dictate  terms  of  peace 
within  sixty  days. 

It  was  many  a  year  before  I  learned  the  historical  fact 
that  the  little  battle  of  Manassas  was  one  of  the  oddest 
episodes  in  military  history,  in  that  it  was  fought  at  right 
angles  to  the  line  of  battle  selected  by  both  commanders, 
and  was  virtually  won  by  the  Union  forces  when  they  be- 
became  panic-stricken  and  fled.  It  is  almost  incredible 
now,  remembering  how  it  was  represented  at  the  time, 
that  only  750  men  were  killed  in  both  armies,  and  less 
than  2500  were  wounded.1 

1  Official  war  records :  Union,  killed,  481 ;  wounded,  1011 ;   captured, 
1460.     Confederate,  killed,  269 ;  wounded,  1483  ;  captured,  none. 


170  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

The  war  had  begun  successfully  enough  to  the  Confed- 
erates to  fan  and  inflame  into  the  most  exaggerated  pro- 
portions the  vanity  of  a  boy  concerning  Southern  valor. 

As  the  summer  advanced,  no  other  startling  battles 
occurred. 

Even  at  that  early  day,  General  Lee  was  the  man  to 
whom  the  Virginians  looked  with  more  confidence  and 
more  hope  than  towards  any  other  Southern  leader.  His 
preeminence  had  been  somewhat  eclipsed  by  the  brilliant 
success  of  Beauregard  and  Johnston  at  Manassas ;  but 
great  things  were  expected  of  him  in  his  campaign  in 
West  Virginia  against  McClellan.  Lee's  western  cam- 
paign proved,  as  we  all  know,  a  failure.  The  mountain- 
ous character  of  the  country  was  such  as  to  preclude  suc- 
cessful military  operations. 

My  father,  commanding  to  the  south  of  General  Lee, 
was  forced,  by  the  situation  of  the  armies  to  the  north  of 
him,  to  retire  from  the  Kanawha  valley.  Before  doing  so, 
he  had  made  a  successful  foray  upon  the  enemy  at  Ripley. 
The  Blues,  and  some  other  troops  under  command  of  my 
brother,  had  surprised  the  enemy  and  captured  a  few  men. 
It  was  a  very  insignificant  affair,  but  we  exaggerated  it 
into  a  deed  of  great  valor  and  importance.  The  Confed- 
erate forces  retreated  to  the  lines  of  the  Gauley,  Floyd 
won  a  handsome  victory  over  the  enemy  at  Carinfax 
Ferry,  and  my  father's  command  took  a  strong  position 
on  Sewell's  Mountain,  awaiting  attack  and  confident  of 
victory. 

Shortly  after  this,  Floyd  retreated  with  his  command  to 
a  place  called  Meadow  Bluff.  He  ranked  my  father,  and 
ordered  him  to  withdraw  his  forces  to  that  place.  This 
my  father  flatly  refused  to  do,  and  his  insubordination 
led  to  an  angry  controversy,  necessitating  the  presence  of 
General  Lee.     Upon  General  Lee's  arrival,  he  fully  sus- 


THE  CALM   BEFORE   THE   STORM  171 

tained  the  military  views  of  General  Wise  ;  but  it  was 
evident  that  two  civilians  like  Wise  and  Floyd  could 
not  cooperate  in  harmony,  and  both  were  ordered  else- 
where. 

The  exposures  and  excitements  of  the  Virginia  cam- 
paign resulted  in  a  protracted  illness  of  my  father,  and  for 
weeks  he  lay  at  the  point  of  death  in  Richmond.  While 
he  was  thus  prostrated,  campaigning  in  West  Virginia 
petered  out,  and  both  sides,  Union  and  Confederate,  real- 
ized that  the  fighting  must  be  done  elsewhere,  and  the 
troops  were  withdrawn.  McClellan  became  commander 
of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac. 

General  Lee  was  ordered  to  Charleston  to  superin- 
tend the  fortifications  there,  followed  by  the  sneer  of  the 
cynical  but  brilliant  editor  of  the  "  Examiner,"  John 
M.  Daniel,  that  it  was  hoped  that  he  would  do  better 
with  the  spade  than  he  had  done  with  the  sword.  Floyd 
dropped  out  of  public  view  and  died  soon  afterwards,  and 
my  father's  brigade  was  ordered  to  Richmond  to  reorgan- 
ize and  await  a  new  assignment. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  impressions  made  by  that  bri- 
gade when  it  returned  from  the  West  Virginia  campaign 
in  December  of  1861.  They  were  the  first  troops  I  had 
seen  return  from  active  campaigning.  During  the  very 
rainy  season  in  the  mountains,  all  the  gilt  and  newness 
of  their  uniforms  had  disappeared.  The  hair  and  beards 
of  the  men  had  grown  long,  and  added  to  their  dirty  ap- 
pearance. A  famous  charger,  named  "  Legion,"  had  been 
presented  to  my  father  at  Staunton  as  he  went  out  in  the 
spring,  and  my  brother  had  taken  with  him  an  exquisite 
chestnut  thoroughbred  filly.  Exposure  in  bad  weather 
and  bad  feed  had  baked  their  coats  and  filled  them  with 
mange,  and  had  made  these  two,  and  all  their  compan- 
ions, look  like  so  many  bags  of  bones.     When,  spiritless, 


172  THE   END  OF  AN  ERA 

dejected,  and  half  starved,  they  were  led  from  the  box-cars 
in  which  they  arrived,  I  could  not  believe  they  were  the 
same  horses  I  had  known. 

Altogether,  a  decided  reaction  had  taken  place  since 
the  wonderful  battle  of  Manassas.  It  had  not  been  fol- 
lowed up  by  the  extermination  of  "the  Yankees,"  as  I 
expected  it  would  be. 

Although  but  two  hundred  and  sixty-nine  Confeder- 
ate soldiers  had  been  killed  at  Manassas,  many  of  them 
were  our  friends.  But  the  deaths  in  battle  were  as  no- 
thing compared  with  other  deaths.  We  were  beginning 
to  dread  measles  and  mumps  and  typhoid  fever  and  dys- 
entery in  the  camps.  We  were  learning  the  ghastly  truth 
that,  for  every  man  who  dies  in  actual  battle,  a  dozen  pass 
away  ingloriously  by  disease. 

The  skeleton  had  not  yet  clutched  any  of  our  family ; 
but,  my !  how  many  of  our  friends  were  already  in  mourn- 
ing !  And  the  war  seemed  no  nearer  to  its  end  than 
when  it  began. 

Six  months  before  that,  the  town  would  have  turned  out 
to  see  the  brigade  pass  through.  To-day,  under  the  com- 
mand of  the  senior  colonel,  it  marched  through  the  city 
quietly  enough,  and  went  into  camp  on  the  outskirts,  with- 
out attracting  great  attention. 

When  father's  health  was  partially  restored,  he  returned 
to  our  home  near  Norfolk  to  complete  his  recuperation. 
One  day  we  visited  the  Gosport  Navy  Yard,  and  saw 
them  building  a  great  iron  monster  upon  the  original 
framework  of  the  Merrimac.  My  father  felt  great  pride 
and  interest  in  this,  for  he  it  was  who,  before  he  had 
departed  for  West  Virginia,  sent  General  Lee  a  descrip- 
tion and  model  of  a  marine  catapult,  designed  years  before 
by   Captain  Williamson ;    and   he   always  insisted   that 


THE  CALM  BEFORE  THE  STORM       173 

this  was  the  first  suggestion  for  the  construction  of  the 
boat. 

It  was  a  very  happy  period,  that  time  in  the  autumn 
of  1861,  when  my  father  and  brother  were  at  home  with 
us.  I  was  no  longer  anxious  to  see  them  in  the  field.  I 
had  heard  too  much  of  the  exposures  and  dangers  and 
deprivations  of  camp  life.  But  in  time  the  orders  came. 
My  father  was  assigned  to  the  command  of  Roanoke 
Island.  The  brigade  came  down  from  Richmond.  It 
was  mightily  spruced  up  and  benefited  by  its  sojourn  in 
Richmond,  and  its  soldierly  appearance  made  a  good  im- 
pression as  it  passed  through  Norfolk. 

At  the  head  of  his  command  in  the  46th,  my  darling 
brother  Jennings  marched.  When  he  saw  me,  he  came 
out  and  patted  and  kissed  me,  and  asked  about  every- 
thing at  home.  Before  we  parted,  be  sure  he  pressed  into 
my  hand  a  crisp  new  Confederate  bill,  for  he  and  I  were 
"  partners." 

The  brigade  was  embarked  on  barges  to  pass  down 
through  the  Albemarle  Canal  to  Roanoke  Island  ;  and 
the  last  I  saw  of  them  was  as  they  floated  away,  towed  by 
the  tugs,  singing  "  The  Bonnie  Blue  Flag." 

The  thing  which  made  me  feel  very  proud  was  the 
news  told  me  by  quite  a  number  of  the  officers  that, 
in  the  reorganization  near  at  hand,  my  brother  was  to 
be  the  colonel  of  the  46th.  I  asked  him  about  it.  He 
laughed  and  said  it  was  all  nonsense,  and  refused  to 
discuss  the  subject.  But  I  knew  it  was  true,  for  every- 
body in  the  regiment  turned  towards  him  lovingly  as  the 
best  and  bravest  and  simplest  and  purest  man  among 
them. 

I  was  lonesome  enough  January  3,  1862,  when  father 
and  his  staff  rode  off  from  Rolleston  to  join  the  brigade 


174  THE   END   OF   AN  ERA 

at  its  new  station.  They  journeyed  by  land  along  the 
coast  to  Nag's  Head,  on  the  outer  coast  of  North  Caro- 
lina, whence  they  were  to  cross  by  ferry  to  Roanoke 
Island. 

I  felt  a  deep  foreboding  that  trouble  was  in  store  for 
us  from  this  new  venture. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   ROANOKE    ISLAND    TRAGEDY 

There  are  certain  names  whose  mere  mention  produces 
feelings  of  horror,  or  pain,  or  sadness  from  association. 
To  me,  that  of  Roanoke  Island  is  one  of  these. 

The  island  commanded  the  passage  by  water  through 
Hatteras  Inlet  and  Pimlico  Sound  to  Albemarle  and 
Currituck  sounds.  It  was  a  most  important  strategic  point, 
for  a  force  of  Union  troops  passing  it  had  at  their  mercy 
several  towns  upon  the  North  Carolina  coast,  could  cut 
off  the  supplies  and  railroad  and  canal  communications 
of  Norfolk,  and  were  in  position  to  attack  that  city  in 
rear.  About  January  1,  1862,  my  father  was  assigned  to 
the  command  and  defense  of  Roanoke  Island.  Major- 
General  Huger  was  the  commander  of  the  department 
embracing  that  position. 

General  Huger  was  one  of  those  old  West  Point  incompe- 
tents with  whom  the  Confederacy  was  burdened.  He  was 
both  by  birth  and  personally  a  gentleman,  and  no  doubt 
a  brave  man ;  but  the  only  reason  on  earth  for  his  being 
a  major-general  in  command  of  an  important  department 
was  that  he  was  a  graduate  of  West  Point.  The  Con- 
federacy felt  this  influence  much  more  than  the  United 
States.  Mr.  Davis,  our  President,  was  a  West  Point 
graduate,  as  was  everybody  else  connected  with  our  mili- 
tary organization.  General  Bragg,  his  favorite  military 
counselor,  was  the  martinet  of  the  old  army ;  and  Generals 
Hardee  and  Cooper,  the  leading  advisers  at  headquarters, 


176  THE  END  OP  AN  ERA 


and  Generals  Lee  and  Johnston,  the  commanders  in  the 
field,  were  all  West  Point  graduates. 

I  am  not  belittling  the  great  advantages  secured  to  the 
Confederacy  by  service  of  a  number  of  very  superior  West 
Point  officers,  who  joined  their  fortunes  with  hers ;  but 
with  them  came  also  a  very  inefficient  and  inferior  lot, 
unfit  for  the  high  commands  to  which  they  were  assigned, 
—  men  who  stood  in  the  way  of  better  officers,  and  who 
were  appointed  and  retained  merely  through  favoritism. 
To  this  latter  class  belonged  Major-General  Benjamin 
Huger,  the  officer  in  command  of  Norfolk. 

The  Secretary  of  War  at  the  time  was  Judah  P.  Ben- 
jamin, in  many  respects  the  most  remarkable  person  in 
the  Confederate  States.  The  Confederate  leaders  were, 
as  a  rule,  men  of  deep  feelings  and  convictions,  or  men 
of  intense  or  passionate  natures.  Not  so  with  Benjamin  : 
he  had  more  brains  and  less  heart  than  any  other  civic 
leader  in  the  South.  He  was  an  English  Jew,  and  a 
lawyer  of  the  first  rank.  He  entered  upon  employment  as 
attorney  for  a  client.  For  that  client  he  worked  with 
surprising  acumen,  with  great  learning,  with  boundless 
capacity  for  endurance,  with  unquestioned  loyalty,  and 
absolute  fidelity.  If  his  client  was  in  any  case  hanged,  it 
was  only  after  Benjamin  had  done  all  in  his  power  for  him ; 
but  after  Benjamin  had  exhausted  the  resources  of  defense, 
and  come  to  the  end  of  the  business  for  which  he  was  re- 
tained, he  possessed  the  power  of  completely  dismissing  his 
client's  affairs  from  his  mind.  Likely  as  not,  he  would 
be  having  a  bottle  of  Madeira  and  a  cigar  at  his  club 
at  the  moment  the  hanging  was  taking  place.  His  nature 
was  such  that  he  had  no  sentimental  attachments,  and 
seldom  troubled  himself  about  the  troubles  of  others.  His 
convictions  were  clear,  vigorous,  and  strongly  urged ;  but 
they  were  never  passionate,   or   clouded   by  affection  or 


THE   ROANOKE  ISLAND   TRAGEDY  177 

hate  ;  he  was  never  harassed  by  reminiscences.  When 
a  case  was  lost,  he  did  not  bemoan  it ;  he  found  another. 
He  played  his  part  in  the  Confederacy  as  if  he  held  a 
hand  in  a  game  of  whist ;  a  skilled  professional,  he  lost 
no  trick  that  could  be  saved,  and  did  everything  possible 
to  win  for  himself  and  his  partner.  When  he  lost,  he 
indulged  in  no  repinings  ;  he  tore  up  the  old  pack,  lighted 
a  fresh  cigar,  moved  to  another  table,  called  for  a  fresh 
pack,  took  a  new  partner,  and  played  another  game.  His 
last  game  proved  to  be  much  more  successful  than  his 
Confederate  venture,  for  he  moved  to  England,  and 
became  justly  eminent  at  the  English  bar.  The  Confed- 
eracy and  its  collapse  were  no  more  to  Judah  P.  Benja- 
min than  a  last  year's  bird's-nest. 

When  my  father  was  assigned  to  the  command  of 
Roanoke  Island,  it  was  well  known  at  the  war  depart- 
ment that  General  McClellan  was  fitting  out  an  expedi- 
tion to  attack  and  capture  the  position. 

The  disastrous  termination  of  the  operations  of  1861 
in  the  mountains  of  West  Virginia  had  not  enhanced  my 
father's  military  reputation,  or  that  of  any  other  general 
who  was  in  the  mountains.  On  the  Union  side,  Mc- 
Clellan had  suffered,  and  even  the  prestige  of  Lee  had 
been  damaged,  in  those  impossible  campaigns,  so  that  he 
had  been  assigned  to  the  fortifications  of  Charleston, 
followed  by  the  jeering  taunts  of  John  M.  Daniel,  the 
satirical  editor  of  the  "  Richmond  Examiner." 

But  while  my  father  lacked  the  advantages  of  a  military 
education,  he  had  a  remarkably  correct  apprehension  of 
topography,  and  was  quick  to  see  the  strategic  value  of 
positions.  As  soon  as  he  visited  Roanoke  Island,  he 
grasped  its  importance,  and  saw  that  it  was  not  only 
practically  defenseless,  but  unsupplied  with  any  adequate 
means  of  erecting  fortifications.     He  hurried  back  to  the 


178  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

headquarters  of  General  Huger  at  Norfolk,  and  doubtless 
harassed  that  easy-going  and  high-living  soldier  with  his 
importunities.  Failing  to  obtain  any  assistance  from 
General  Huger,  he  repaired  to  Richmond,  and  endeavored 
to  impress  upon  the  Secretary  of  War  the  necessity  for 
prompt  action.  Mr.  Benjamin  was  an  attorney,  and  not 
a  soldier.  He  looked  for  instruction  to  his  client,  who 
in  this  case  was  General  Huger.  He  doubtless  thought 
that  the  West  Pointer  knew  much  more  of  such  matters 
than  the  civilian,  and  regarded  it  as  little  less  than  insub- 
ordination for  a  brigadier-general  to  seek  the  depart- 
ment direct.  Then,  too,  Mr.  Benjamin  was  an  easy- 
spoken,  cool,  suave  Jew,  quiet  and  diplomatic  in  speech, 
never  excited.  It  disturbed  his  nerves  to  have  General 
Wise  in  his  department,  —  ardent,  urgent,  pressing,  declar- 
ing that  past  neglect  had  been  criminal  and  present  delay 
was  suicidal,  and  even  guilty  occasionally  of  some  indignant 
swearing  at  the  galling  indifference  shown  to  the  urgent 
peril  of  the  situation.  The  upshot  of  all  this  was  a  per- 
emptory order  from  the  war  department  to  General  Wise 
to  return  forthwith  to  Roanoke  Island,  and  to  do  the  best 
he  could  with  what  he  had  in  hand. 

After  the  inevitable  disaster,  the  Confederate  Congress 
declared  that  General  Wise  had  done  everything  in  his 
power,  and  that  the  blame  for  defeat  lay  entirely  at  the 
door  of  General  Huger  and  the  Secretary  of  War ;  but 
that  never  repaired  the  wreck,  or  gave  us  back  our  dead.  * 

1  The  report  of  the  investigating-  committee,  Confederate  House  of 
Representatives    (Series  I.  vol.  i.  p.  190) :  — 

' '  The  correspondence  on  file  of  General  Wise  with  the  Secretary  of 
War,  General  Huger,  his  superior  officer,  the  governor  of  North  Caro- 
lina, and  others,  proves  that  he  was  fully  alive  to  the  importance  of 
Roanoke  Island,  and  has  devoted  his  whole  time  and  energies  and  means 
to  the  defense  of  that  position,  and  that  he  is  in  no  way  responsible  for 
the  unfortunate  disaster  which  befell  our  forces  upon  the  island  on  Febru- 
ary 7  and  8. 


THE   ROANOKE  ISLAND   TRAGEDY  179 

Our  home  was  on  the  route  between  Norfolk  and 
Roanoke  Island.  My  father's  haggard,  perplexed  appear- 
ance, as  he  passed  back  and  forth  on  these  fruitless  trips, 
revealed  only  too  plainly  his  knowledge  that  he  had 
been  placed  in  a  death-trap.  Indeed,  we  all  knew,  as 
well  before  as  afterwards,  what  would  be  the  result. 

It  was  on  the  8th  of  February,  1862  ;  a  cold,  bluster- 
ing northeast  storm  had  prevailed  for  several  days  ;  the 
leaden  skies  hung  low ;  the  rain,  blown  in  sheets  by  the 
gusts,  swept  against  the  windows ;  all  farm  work  had 
been  suspended  ;  the  tides  were  driven  in  high  upon  the 
marshes  ;  and  the  only  time  I  left  the  house  during  the 
day  was  in  an  oiled  sou'wester  and  gum  boots,  to  look 
after  the  feeding  of  the  cattle  and  the  sheep,  huddled  in 
their  sheds  of  myrtle-boughs,  and  to  see  that  the  stock 
was  cared  for  in  the  evening.  I  was  now  the  head  of  the 
plantation.     A   gloomy  dusk   was    closing   in ;  the    cold 

"  But  the  committee  cannot  say  the  same  in  reference  to  the  efforts  of 
the  Secretary  of  War  and  the  commanding  officer  at  Norfolk,  General 
Huger.  It  is  apparent  that  the  island  of  Roanoke  is  important  for  the 
defense  of  Norfolk,  and  that  General  Huger  had  under  his  command  at 
that  point  upward  of  15,000  men,  a  large  supply  of  armament  and  ammu- 
nition, and  could  have  thrown  in  a  few  hours  a  large  reinforcement  upon 
Roanoke  Island,  and  that  himself  and  the  Secretary  of  War  had  timely 
notice  of  the  entire  inadequacy  of  the  defenses,  the  want  of  men  and 
munitions  of  war,  and  the  threatening  attitude  of  the  enemy  ;  but  General 
Huger  and  the  Secretary  of  War  paid  no  practical  attention  to  these 
urgent  appeals  of  General  Wise,  sent  forward  none  of  his  important 
requisitions,  and  permitted  General  Wise  and  his  inconsiderable  force  to 
remain  to  meet  at  least  15,000  men,  well  armed  and  equipped.  If  the 
Secretary  of  War  and  the  commanding  general  at  Norfolk  had  not  the 
means  to  reinforce  General  Wise,  why  was  he  not  ordered  to  abandon  his 
position  and  save  his  command  ? 

' '  But,  on  the  contrary,  he  was  required  to  remain  and  sacrifice  his 
command,  with  no  means,  in  his  insulated  position,  to  make  his  escape  in 
case  of  defeat.  .  .  .  Whatever  of  blame  and  responsibility  is  justly 
attributable  to  any  one  for  the  defeat  should  attach  to  Major-General  B. 
Huger  arid  the  late  Secretary  of  War,  J.  P.  Benjamin." 


180  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

winds  swept  so  keenly  that  they  fretted  the  shallow  pud- 
dles collected  in  the  yard. 

With  emptied  feed-basket  on  my  arm,  I  was  returning 
to  the  house,  when  I  saw  a  horseman  slowly  approaching 
by  the  farm  road.  He  was  so  muffled  as  to  be  unrecog- 
nizable, and  even  when  he  reached  the  yard  gate,  I  did 
not  recognize  the  jaded  beast  that  bore  him  as  our  pretty 
little  sorrel  filly.  It  was  my  brother  Richard,  my  father's 
aid-de-camp,  who  for  forty-eight  hours  had  been  riding 
alone  along  the  cheerless  beach  of  the  Atlantic  to  bring 
the  announcement  to  General  Huger  that  the  armada  of 
Burnside,  consisting  of  about  sixty  vessels,  had  entered 
Hatteras  Inlet,  passed  up  Pimlico  Sound,  and  was  in 
sight  of  Roanoke  Island  when  he  left  with  his  dispatches. 
These  he  had  delivered  to  the  general  at  Norfolk,  who, 
as  he  reported,  seemed  almost  indifferent  to  the  announce- 
ment. Having  performed  his  task,  he  had  ridden  back 
to  our  home,  seven  miles  upon  the  return  journey,  and  now 
reached  it,  himself  and  his  steed  half  dead  from  exhaus- 
tion. There  was  little  to  lighten  the  gloom  in  the  poor 
fellow's  appearance  or  conversation,  for  he  reported  our 
father  prostrated  at  Nag's  Head  from  exposure  in  the 
effort  to  prepare  the  island  for  the  approaching  assault. 

A  roaring  wood-fire  and  a  hearty  supper  somewhat 
revived  his  spirits,  and  for  a  time  we  almost  forgot  war 
troubles  while  he  gave  marvelous  accounts  of  the  great 
flocks  of  sea-fowl  through  which  he  had  ridden  in  the 
storm.  The  strong  winds  and  high  tides  had  forced  him 
to  ride,  sometimes  for  miles,  in  water  up  to  the  knees 
of  his  horse  ;  and  the  storm  was  so  fierce  that  the  geese 
and  brant  and  ducks,  driven  in-shore,  were  reluctant  to 
fly,  and  oftentimes  barely  moved  out  of  the  way  of  his 
horse. 

As  we  sat   there,  seeking  such  comfort  as  our  home 


THE   ROANOKE   ISLAND   TRAGEDY  181 

and  security  from  the  storm  outside  gave  us,  and  won- 
dering what  had  happened  below,  we  little  realized  that 
upon  the  day  before,  and  on  that  very  day,  the  battle  of 
Roanoke  Island  had  been  fought  and  lost,  and  that  our 
gallant  brother,  wounded  to  death,  lay  dying  in  the  camp 
of  his  captors. 

The  battle  of  Roanoke  Island,  fought  February  7  and 
8,  was  the  first  of  a  series  of  disasters  which  befell  the 
Confederates  in  the  early  part  of  1862. 

Roanoke  Island  is  shaped  something  like  an  hourglass. 
Its  northernmost  half  is  higher  ground  than  its  southern- 
most, and  the  waters  and  wet  marshes  almost  intersect 
it  at  its  middle  part.  The  engineers  who  planned  its 
defenses  placed  all  its  fortifications  upon  the  upper  half, 
bearing  upon  the  channel  of  Croatan  Sound  to  westward. 
Not  a  work  was  erected  to  prevent  a  debarkation  upon  its 
lower  portion.  An  attacking  force  landing  there  was 
absolutely  safe  from  the  water  batteries,  both  while  land- 
ing and  afterwards.  At  the  narrow  neck  of  land  which 
connected  the  upper  and  lower  half  of  the  island  was 
a  fortification,  not  one  hundred  feet  in  length  and  only 
four  and  a  half  feet  high,  mounting  three  field-pieces. 
This  captured,  every  other  artillery  defense  of  the  island 
was  at  the  mercy  of  the  enemy,  who  by  that  manoeuvre 
were  in  their  rear,  —  so  emphatically  in  their  rear  that  the 
vessels  attacking  the  water  batteries  could  not  fire  after 
the  Union  troops  assaulted  the  redoubt,  for  their  shot 
would  have  fallen  into  the  ranks  of  their  own  troops. 

The  sea  beach  eastward  of  Roanoke  Island,  separated 
from  it  by  shallow  water,  is  known  as  Nag's  Head.  My 
father's  headquarters  were  established  at  a  seaside  hotel 
on  the  outer  beach.  The  announcement  of  the  presence 
of  Burnside's  expedition  found  him  prostrated  with  pneu- 
monia, nnd  the  command  of  the  troops  devolved  upon 


182  THE   END   OF  AN  ERA 

Colonel  Shaw,  of  North  Carolina,  although  my  father  con- 
tinued to  give  general  directions  from  his  sick-bed. 

The  entire  available  force  of  Colonel  Shaw  consisted 
of  two  regiments  of  North  Carolina  troops,  numbering 
1024  men,  and  a  detachment  of  my  father's  brigade, 
numbering  410  men,  under  Lieutenant-Colonel  Anderson, 
—  total,  1434  men. 

Upon  the  morning  of  February  7,  the  ships  of  Gen- 
eral Burnside  attacked  what  was  known  as  the  Pork 
Point  battery,  and  a  ridiculous  little  so-called  fleet  of 
Commander  Lynch,  consisting  of  seven  tugs  and  river 
steamers.  It  was  dubbed  a  "  mosquito  fleet,"  and  such 
in  truth  it  was.  Although  gallantly  manoeuvred,  it  was 
no  more  regarded  by  Commodore  Goldsbrough  than  if 
the  vessels  had  been  so  many  tin  pans  armed  with  potato 
guns.  Pork  Point  battery  was  bravely  defended  all  day, 
but  its  guns  could  only  be  brought  to  bear  upon  objects 
within  a  limited  segment. 

The  bombardment  was  kept  up  until  night  to  cover 
the  landing  of  the  troops  at  a  point  known  as  Ashby's, 
just  below  the  narrow  part  of  the  island.  No  serious 
damage  was  done  to  the  battery,  and  but  few  men  were 
killed. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  three  Federal  brigades  were 
debarked.  The  first  consisted  of  five  full  regiments 
under  General  Foster ;  the  second,  of  four  regiments 
under  General  Reno  ;  the  third,  of  four  regiments  under 
General  Parke,  —  thirteen  full  regiments  in  all,  not  to 
mention  a  detachment  of  New  York  Marine  Artillery, 
with  six  Dahlgren  guns,  and  Company  B,  New  York 
99th  Regiment.  The  debarkation  took  place  at  Ashby's 
Landing. 

Colonel  Jordan,  commanding  the  31st  North  Carolina 
Regiment,  was  sent  to  this  point  with  his  commaad  under 


THE   ROANOKE    ISLAND   TRAGEDY  183 

orders  to  resist  the  landing,  but  he  retired  without  firing 
a  gun.  He  had  but  450  men,  and  the  overwhelming 
number  of  the  enemy,  and  the  vast  fleet  covering  their 
landing  and  ready  to  open  on  him  as  soon  as  his  firing 
disclosed  his  position,  perhaps  justified  Colonel  Jordan  in 
returning.  So  the  enemy,  by  night-time,  in  astonishing 
force,  was  landed,  and  ready  for  next  day's  operations. 

In  his  report,  General  Burnside  gives  a  graphic  de- 
scription of  the  beautiful  sight  when  one  of  his  light- 
draught  steamers  ran  up,  towing  a  hundred  surf-boats 
loaded  down  with  men,  and,  "  cutting  loose  "  all  at  once, 
the  boats  were  beached  side  by  side  with  such  precision 
that  four  thousand  men  were  landed  in  twenty  minutes ; 
and  this  was  but  one  of  his  three  brigades. 

Fancy  the  feelings  of  that  little  band  of  raw  North 
Carolina  troops  under  Colonel  Jordan  when,  from  the 
adjacent  woods,  they  witnessed  these  landings,  and  not 
only  knew  they  had  but  one  thousand  comrades  to  assist 
them,  but  that,  when  the  fight  was  lost,  as  lost  it  must  be, 
there  was  no  hope  of  escape !  Verily,  the  first  colonists 
were  not  more  desperately  situated.  No  one  can  blame 
the  poor  fellows  for  quietly  withdrawing  up  the  dark 
and  narrow  road  to  the  earthworks  at  the  causeway  con- 
necting the  two  sections  of  the  island,  a  mile  and  a  half 
distant.  There  they  found  the  Virginians  and  the  8th 
North  Carolina  Regiment,  numbering  less  than  one  thou- 
sand men  in  all.  The  earthwork  facing  south,  and  com- 
manding the  causeway  by  which  the  Union  forces  must 
approach,  was  so  insignificant  in  size  that  even  the  small 
number  of  Confederates  available  more  than  filled  it,  and 
a  part  of  Jordan's  regiment  was  placed  in  reserve  in  the 
fight  next  day.  The  engineers  who  had  erected  this  little 
work  had  reported  that  the  marshes  to  the  right  and  left 
were  impassable.     The  same  rainy,  gusty  night  already 


184  THE  END   OF  AN   ERA 

described  settled  down  on  our  wretched  soldiers,  while, 
less  than  two  miles  away,  between  twelve  and  fifteen 
thousand  of  the  enemy  were  building  camp-fires,  cooking 
their  ample  supplies  of  provisions,  and  preparing  to  ad- 
vance upon  the  earthwork  in  the  morning. 

Anxious  to  obtain  information,  Colonel  Anderson  or- 
dered Captain  O.  Jennings  Wise,  of  Company  A,  46th 
Virginia,  with  twenty  of  his  Virginians,  to  reconnoitre 
the  position  of  the  enemy.  In  that  wretched  swamp, 
reconnoitring  meant  simply  going  down  a  narrow  road 
until  they  struck  the  enemy.  The  road  ran  directly 
south,  through  the  main  embrasure  of  the  earthwork,  over 
the  sunken  causeway.  In  front  of  the  work,  for  several 
hundred  yards,  the  timber  was  cleared  away.  Beyond 
the  clearing,  the  road  entered  the  woods,  and,  turning  to 
the  right,  ran  down  to  Ashby's  Landing  where  the  enemy 
was  bivouacked. 

The  task  assigned  to  the  brave  fellows  was  simple 
enough.  All  they  had  to  do  was  to  walk  right  down 
through  the  silent  pines  until  they  came  to  the  enemy's 
picket  guard ;  when  that  happened,  somebody  was  likely 
to  be  shot,  and  somebody  likely  to  run  away. 

It  all  sounds  very  simple,  does  it  not,  dear  reader  ?  I 
am  conjecturing,  as  I  pen  these  lines,  whether  you  ever 
had  any  such  experience.  If  not,  and  if  you  really  are 
anxious  for  a  novel  sensation,  you  can  obtain  it  whenever 
you  go  on  one  of  these  little  reconnoissances. 

Cheerfully,  and  as  uncomplainingly  as  if  the  allotted 
task  was  of  their  own  choosing,  the  little  party  sallied 
forth.  Across  the  opening  they  trudged  in  the  gray 
darkness,  and  plunged  into  the  silent  woods  beyond.  In 
Indian  file  and  in  silence  they  pursued  their  route. 
Tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  —  on,  on,  on,  every  step  bearing 
them,  as   all  knew,  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  enemy  they 


THE   ROANOKE   ISLAND   TRAGEDY  185 

were  seeking.  Now  and  again  they  paused  and  listened 
for  some  sound  ;  then  onward  they  pressed,  the  tension 
constantly  becoming  greater.  No  picket  fire  warned 
them.  1/ 

Of  a  sudden,  "  Who  goes  there  ?  "  came  forth  huskily 
out  of  the  darkness  from  a  picket  not  twenty  yards  away. 
Quick  as  a  flash,  they  made  a  dash  for  him  ;  but  he  fired 
and  fled,  followed  by  two  or  three  companions,  who,  like 
him,  fired  backwards  as  they  ran,  and  our  boys  gave  them 
a  volley,  knocking  one  of  them  over.  Pursuit  was  too 
dangerous,  for  the  sounds  of  the  firing  had  aroused  the 
camp,  and  loud  calls  and  hurrying  voices,  not  far  distant, 
made  it  too  plain  that  discretion  was  the  better  part  of 
valor.  So,  picking  up  the  cap  and  gun  of  the  man  who 
had  been  shot,  the  scouts  started  on  a  double-quick  back 
to  the  redoubt.  What  was  learned  was  only  that  the 
enemy  had  gone  into  camp  near  the  spot  where  he  landed. 
Prepared  for  sleep  by  this  little  march  and  its  excitements, 
my  brother  and  his  men  lay  down  on  the  wet  ground  be- 
hind the  breastworks,  and  slept,  some  of  them,  their  last 
earthly  sleep. 

A  heavy  fog  hung  over  Roanoke  Island  the  morning 
of  February  8,  so  dense  that  the  fleet  opposite  the  Pork 
Point  battery  was  unable  to  open  fire,  except  in  a  desul- 
tory way.  It  was  eight  o'clock  before  the  mists  lifted 
sufficiently  for  the  attack,  and  then  the  gunboats  fired 
cautiously,  lest  their  shells  should  fall  among  their 
friends  who  were  advancing  towards  our  works. 

General  Foster's  brigade,  accompanied  by  the  six  Dahl- 
gren  guns,  moved,  about  eight  o'clock,  up  the  narrow 
roadway  leading  from  Hammond's  or  Ashby's  landings 
to  the  redoubt.  Their  advance  was  completely  concealed 
from  the  Confederates,  until  a  sudden  turn  to  the  left  in 
the  road  brought  them  to  the  clearing  in  front  of  our 


186  THE   END   OF   AN  ERA 

earthworks.  Then  the  Dahlgren  guns,  under  Midship- 
man Porter,  went  into  position  and  opened  fire,  supported 
by  the  25th  Massachusetts  and  10th  Connecticut  regi- 
ments. 

The  disposition  of  the  Confederate  forces  was  as  fol- 
lows :  three  field-pieces,  a  24-pounder,  an  18-pounder, 
and  a  6-pounder,  were  mounted  on  the  intrenchments. 
For  all  three,  they  had  nothing  but  6-pounder  ammuni- 
tion. The  6-pounder,  was  at  the  centre  of  the  embrasure, 
commanded  by  young  William  B.  Selden,  lieutenant  of 
engineers.  The  infantry  supporting  this  artillery  behind 
the  breastworks  consisted  of  two  companies  of  the  8th 
North  Carolina,  two  companies  of  the  31st  North  Caro- 
lina, and  two  companies  of  the  46th  and  59th  Virginia 
regiments,  in  all  about  five  hundred  men.  The  Rangers 
of  the  59th  Virginia  under  Captain  Coles  were  deployed 
as  skirmishers  to  the  right  of  the  earthwork ;  and  the 
Blues  of  the  46th  Virginia  under  Captain  Wise  were 
deployed  as  skirmishers  to  the  left,  in  order  to  guard 
against  any  attempted  flank  movement.  Every  engineer 
and  every  scouting  party  who  had  examined  the  ground 
had  pronounced  the  deep  and  heavily  wooded  marshes 
to  the  right  and  left  of  the  Confederate  position  to  be 
impassable. 

General  Foster,  as  soon  as  he  engaged  the  fort  with  his 
artillery  and  leading  regiments,  ordered  the  23d  and  27th 
Massachusetts  regiments  of  his  brigade  to  pass  into  the 
swamp  on  the  right,  with  directions  to  spare  no  effort  to 
penetrate  it,  and,  if  possible,  turn  the  Confederate  left 
flank.  Moving  rapidly  along  the  edge  of  the  clearing, 
these  two  regiments  with  great  pluck  entered  the  bog  and 
undergrowth,  and,  toiling  knee-deep  in  the  muddy  ooze, 
soon  hotly  engaged  the  Blues  in  the  effort  to  turn  our 
left  flank.     The  fighting  in  front  was  stubborn,  so  stub- 


THE   ROANOKE   ISLAND   TRAGEDY  187 

born,  indeed,  that  in  three  hours  the  25th  Massachusetts 
exhausted  its  ammunition  and  was  relieved  by  the  10th 
Connecticut ;  and  the  artillery,  having  used  all  but  a  few 
rounds  of  its  ammunition,  was  ordered  to  suspend  its  fire. 
Meanwhile,  Reno's  brigade,  coming  up,  moved  to  the  left 
and  penetrated  the  dense  woods  in  the  attempt  to  turn 
our  right  flank.  The  assault  of  Reno's  brigade  was  met 
by  the  Ben  McCulloch  Rangers,  alone.  Poor  Coles,  their 
commander,  was  killed.  The  onslaught  of  Reno  was  irre- 
sistible, and,  as  soon  as  his  men  could  extricate  themselves 
from  the  morass  and  gain  the  higher  ground  where  the 
Rangers  were  posted,  they  drove  the  latter  before  them 
like  chaff  before  the  wind. 

Then  came  tremendous  cheering  from  Reno's  men,  an- 
nouncing their  success  in  turning  the  right  flank  of  the 
fort.  This  so  inspired  the  brigade  of  General  Parke, 
which  had  now  come  up  and  was  deploying  to  the  right 
to  aid  the  attack  of  Foster's  flanking  column,  that  the 
last  regiment  of  Parke  (9th  New  York),  while  in  the  act 
of  passing  the  causeway,  hearing  the  sound  of  Reno's 
cheering  and  seeing  a  slackening  of  the  fire  from  the 
Confederate  earthworks,  changed  direction  and  charged 
the  works  in  brilliant  style.  Whoever  else  may  have 
been  appalled,  young  Selden  still  worked  his  gun,  which 
bore  directly  upon  the  advancing  regiment.  A  discharge 
passed  over  their  heads.  Deliberately  lowering  his  piece 
and  reloading,  he  seized  the  lanyard  in  his  own  hand  and 
attempted  to  fire.  The  primer  failed.  Coolly  securing 
and  adjusting  a  new  primer,  he  once  more  sighted  and 
screwed  down  his  gun  so  that  it  would  rake  mercilessly 
through  the  ranks  now  close  upon  him.  He  straight- 
ened himself  from  sighting,  stepped  back,  and  was  actu- 
ally making  the  motion  to  jerk  the  lanyard,  when  a 
bullet  from  the  rifle  of  a  Union  soldier  not  thirty  yards 


188  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

away  pierced  his  brain,  and  he  fell  forward  across  his 
gun. 

On  the  left,  the  Massachusetts  men,  inspired  by  the 
shouts  from  Reno's  and  Parke's  commands,  moved  up 
and  drove  back  the  Blues.  Captain  Wise,  scorning  the 
protection  of  the  trees  behind  which,  by  his  command, 
his  men  were  concealed,  passed  back  and  forth  along  his 
attenuated  line,  counseling  the  men  to  keep  cool  and  fire 
close.  In  such  a  position,  under  the  fire  of  two  regiments 
concentrated  upon  a  single  company,  his  conduct  was 
almost  suicidal.  It  was  not  long  before  his  sword  arm 
fell  helpless  by  his  side,  fractured  near  the  wrist  by  a 
minie-ball.  Untying  a  handkerchief  about  his  neck,  he 
bandaged  the  wounded  limb,  laughingly  remarking  that 
he  was  fortunate  it  was  no  worse ;  but  he  had  scarcely 
resumed  command  of  his  men,  when  he  fell  mortally 
woimded. 

His  soldiers  were  passionately  attached  to  him,  and, 
although  the  fire  was  by  this  time  becoming  murderous, 
two  of  the  Blues  spread  a  blanket,  lifted  him  gently  upon 
it,  and,  bearing  him  between  them,  trotted  off  sullenly 
to  the  rear  as  the  Union  troops  were  climbing  over  the 
Confederate  redoubt  to  their  right. 

All  was  over  as  far  as  the  defense  of  Roanoke  Island 
was  concerned.  Two  small  reinforcements  landed  on  the 
north  end  of  the  island  that  morning,  one  under  Colonel 
Green,  another  under  Major  Fry,  but  neither  were  in 
time  to  participate  in  the  fight. 

Our  little  band  had  done  its  best ;  two  hundred  and 
fifty-one  killed  and  wounded  in  the  Union  ranks  (more 
than  half  as  many  as  our  whole  force  engaged)  testified 
to  the  honest  fighting  of  our  men. 

The  capture  of  the  redoubt  placed  the  Union  forces 
directly  in  rear  of  the  Confederate  shore  batteries;  and, 


THE   ROANOKE   ISLAND   TRAGEDY  189 

as  no  other  positions  on  the  island  were  defensible,  Colo- 
nel Shaw  surrendered  his  entire  force. 

My  poor  brother  was  borne  by  his  men  along  an  unfre- 
quented path  to  the  eastern  side  of  the  island.  There 
they  found  a  small  boat,  and,  obedient  to  his  earnest 
desire,  were  conveying  him  to  my  father's  headquarters 
at  Nag's  Head,  where  he  would  have  died.  Unfortu- 
nately, a  party  of  the  9th  New  York  under  Colonel  Rush 
Hawkins  pursued  the  same  path  as  themselves,  and,  see- 
ing the  boat,  opened  fire  upon  it  and  ordered  it  to  re- 
turn. One  of  these  shots  gave  my  brother  a  third  wound. 
A  letter  written  thirty-two  years  afterwards  by  Colonel 
Hawkins,  who  in  these  days  of  restored  amity  I  am  proud 
to  number  among  my  friends,  tells  the  sad,  sad  story  of 
the  death  of  that  sweetest  brother  boy  ever  had. 

A  few  days  later,  a  flag-of-truce  boat  brought  up  the 
bodies  of  our  dead.  When,  in  the  Capitol  of  Virginia  at 
Richmond,  I  gazed  for  the  last  time  in  the  cold,  calm  face  ; 
when  I  saw  the  black  pageant  which  testified  to  the  gen- 
eral mourning  as  they  bore  him  to  his  last  resting-place  in 
beautiful  Hollywood,  —  I  began  to  realize  as  never  before 
that  war  is  not  all  brilliant  deeds  and  glory,  but  a  gaunt, 
heartless  wolf  that  comes  boldly  into  the  most  sacred 
precincts,  and  snatches  even  the  sucking  babe  from  the 
mother's  breast ;  that  the  most  cherished  treasure  is  its 
favorite  object  of  destruction  ;  that  it  ever  plants  its  fangs 
in  the  bravest  and  tenderest  hearts  ;  and  that  that  which 
we  prize  the  most  is  surest  to  be  seized  by  its  insatiate 
rapacity. 

But,  reader,  the  death  of  a  dear  one  in  war  does  not 
bring  with  it  the  chastened  sorrow  of  a  peaceful  death.  It 
inflames  and  infuriates  the  passion  for  blood ;  it  intensi- 
fies the  thirst  for  another  opportunity  to  see  it  flow. 

The  feeling  which  possessed  me  then,  I  well  remember. 


190  THE   END   OF  AN  ERA 

It  was,  "  How  long,  oh,  how  long,  will  it  be,  before  I  can 
bury  these  hands  in  the  heart  of  some  of  those  who 
wrought  this  deed  !  " 

In  less  than  a  month,  the  Confederate  war-dogs  tore, 
before  my  very  eyes,  their  bleeding  victims  in  a  way  that 
seemed  an  answer  to  my  prayer  for  vengeance. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  MEEEIMAC  AND  THE  MONITOR 

The  building  of  the  iron-clad  afterwards  famous  all 
over  the  world  as  the  Virginia,  or  the  Merrimac,  was  a 
subject  of  daily  conversation  in  our  household  from  the 
time  the  Gosport  Navy  Yard  was  burned  and  abandoned 
by  the  Union  troops  in  April,  1861. 

My  father,  during  his  service  in  Congress,  was  for  some 
years  upon  the  Committee  on  Naval  Affairs ;  his  acquaint- 
ance with  naval  officers  resulting  from  that  fact,  and  from 
his  long  residence  at  Rio  de  Janeiro,  was  unusually  wide- 
spread. Commodore  James  Barron  was  one  of  his  con- 
stituents and  warm  friends.  Commodore  Barron  was  the 
gallant  but  unfortunate  officer  who  killed  Decatur  in  a 
duel,  and  was  himself  severely  wounded.  Besides  other 
contributions  of  value  to  the  navy,  he  conceived  the  idea 
of  an  impregnable  steam  propeller,  armed  with  a  pyrami- 
dal beak,  and  a  terrapin-shaped  back  at  an  acute  angle  to 
the  line  of  projectiles  fired  from  its  own  level.  He  called 
it  a  marine  catapulta,  and  had  complete  models,  plans, 
and  descriptions,  which  he  exhibited  to  the  naval  commit- 
tee, in  the  effort  to  have  a  ship  constructed  on  these  lines. 
He  made  little  impression,  however ;  for  in  those  days 
steam  navigation  had  attained  no  very  great  success, — 
much  less  the  utilization  of  iron  upon  ships.  He  sub- 
sequently presented  the  model  to  my  father,  who  had  also 
a  large  number  of  models  of  other  vessels. 

In  our  rummaging  about  the  place,  we  boys  found  these 


192  THE  END   OF  AN   ERA 

models  in  some  old  boxes,  and  took  them  down  to  our 
niillpond,  where  we  anchored  them  as  part  of  our  minia- 
ture fleet.  The  Barron  model,  and  one  constructed  by 
Lieutenant  Williamson  of  the  navy,  were  the  most  con- 
spicuous, making  quite  a  proud  addition  to  our  naval  dis- 
play.    This  was  in  1860. 

We  also  possessed  a  brass  cannon  about  eighteen  inches 
long,  which  had  been  cast  for  us  by  a  convict  in  the  Vir- 
ginia Penitentiary.  That  cannon  was  stamped  with  the 
words  "  Union  and  Constitution,"  but  its  use  by  its  pos- 
sessors was  most  lawless.  Modeling  slugs  for  it  by  pour- 
ing melted  lead  into  holes  made  by  sticking  our  rammer 
in  the  sand,  we  were  constantly  firing  these  slugs,  to  the 
great  peril  of  everybody  in  the  vicinity. 

One  of  our  neighbors,  a  Captain  Johnson,  an  old  sea- 
man, living  about  a  mile  down  the  creek,  had  a  flock  of 
geese ;  and  from  one  of  his  voyages  in  Indian  seas  he  had 
brought  back  six  coolie  boys,  who  were  probably  apjsren- 
ticed  to  him.  These  coolies  were  passionately  fond  of  the 
water,  and  were  almost  constantly  in  sight,  bathing,  or 
rowing,  or  sailing  a  felucca-rigged  boat.  After  trying  the 
range  of  our  gun  upon  Captain  Johnson's  geese,  we  began 
to  practice  upon  the  coolies.  On  a  certain  evening,  Cap- 
tain Johnson  appeared  in  full  marine  rig  at  our  landing, 
rowed  by  his  six  coolies,  and,  announcing  to  our  father 
the  sport  in  which  we  had  been  engaged,  gave  notice  that 
he  had  a  gun  of  his  own,  with  which,  if  we  did  not 
promptly  cease  our  diversion,  he  would  open  a  return  fire. 

My  father,  who  was  a  friend  of  Captain  Johnson,  and 
indignant  at  our  reckless  misconduct,  gave  us  all  a  bad 
half  hour  in  consequence  of  this  visit.  We  were  sum- 
moned before  him,  and,  after  considerable  discussion  con- 
cerning the  punishment  we  should  receive,  were  marched 
in  a  body  to  the  landing  and  made  to  apologize  to  the 


THE   MERRIMAC   AND   THE   MONITOR  193 

coolies,  wlio  grinned  and  showed  their  teeth.  After  that 
we  were  good  friends  of  the  coolies,  and  our  future  opera- 
tions with  the  gun  were  confined  to  the  millpond  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  farm.  In  our  new  field,  it  promptly 
occurred  to  us,  as  it  would  to  most  boys,  that  the  best  tar- 
gets for  our  cannon  were  the  models  of  the  irou-clads 
anchored  out  in  the  pond.  Unfortunately,  they  had  no 
iron  upon  them ;  and,  such  was  the  precision  we  had  ac- 
quired in  our  practice  upon  Johnson's  geese  and  coolies, 
that  in  a  few  days  the  models  of  Commodore  Barron  and 
Lieutenant  Williamson  were  riddled,  and  ignominiously 
disappeared.  They  were  resting  in  the  mud  at  the  bot- 
tom of  our  millpond  when  the  war  broke  out. 

The  following  spring,  after  visiting  the  navy  yard  and 
seeing  the  partially  burned  Merrimac,  my  father  became 
enthusiastic  upon  the  subject  of  raising  her  and  building 
upon  her  frame  an  iron-clad  ship  on  the  lines  of  Com- 
modore Barron's  model.  Imbued  with  this  idea,  he  insti- 
tuted rigorous  inquiries  for  the  model ;  but,  for  reasons 
which  may  well  be  understood,  none  of  us  boys  aided  him 
much  in  the  search.  Failing  to  find  his  model,  he  wrote 
to  General  Lee,  who  was  then  commander-in-chief  of  the 
Virginia  forces,  an  elaborate  description  of  Commodore 
Barron's  invention,  and  made  rough  drawings,  urging  the 
use  of  the  Merrimac  for  carrying  out  the  design.  He 
always  believed  and  declared  that  this  was  the  first  sug- 
gestion which  led  to  the  building  of  the  Virginia. 

We  all  knew  that  an  iron-clad  ship  was  being  built,  and 
from  time  to  time  informed  ourselves  of  the  progress 
made  ;  and  great  things  were  expected  from  her.  So  deep 
was  my  father's  interest  in  her,  that  he  several  times  vis- 
ited the  navy  yard  to  inspect  her.  He  repeatedly  ex- 
pressed the  opinion  that  she  was  being  built  to  draw  too 
much  water,  and  that  her  beak  or  ramming  prow  was  im- 


194  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

properly  constructed  in  this,  that  it  was  horizontal  at  the 
top  and  sloped  upward  from  the  bottom,  whereas  it  should 
have  been  horizontal  on  the  bottom  and  made  to  slope 
downward  to  a  point.  When  the  ship  was  launched,  he 
was  indignant  because  the  lower  edge  or  eaves  of  her 
armor-clad  covering  stood  several  feet  out  of  the  water, 
and  it  was  necessary  to  ballast  her  heavily  to  bring 
her  sheathing  below  the  water  line.  This  increased  her 
draught  to  eighteen  feet,  which  was,  as  he  declared,  en- 
tirely unnecessary.  He  insisted  that  this  condition  was 
due  to  the  failure  of  the  naval  architects  (in  calculating 
the  water  which  she  would  draw  when  sheathed  with 
iron)  to  deduct  from  the  weight  of  her  sheathing  the 
weight  of  masts,  spars,  rigging,  and  sails,  which  were 
dispensed  with. 

Admiral  Buchanan,  Commodore  Forrest,  Captain 
Brooke,  and  all  the  prominent  naval  men  connected  with 
the  Norfolk  Navy  Yard  were  personal  and  warm  friends 
of  my  father.  He  did  not  hesitate  to  express  his  views 
concerning  these  things,  but  they,  as  professional  men 
generally  do,  made  light  of  the  criticisms  of  a  layman. 
Nevertheless,  I  think  that  many  naval  authorities  are  now 
disposed  to  admit  that  the  chief  reason  why  the  Virginia 
did  not  triumph  completely  over  the  Monitor  was  her 
great  draught  of  water,  the  loss  of  her  prow,  and  the 
twisting  of  her  stem  in  ramming  the  Cumberland. 

After  the  disaster  of  Roanoke  Island,  my  father  re- 
turned to  his  home  on  sick  leave,  where  for  some  time 
his  life  was  in  danger  from  pneumonia,  aggravated  by  ex- 
posure on  the  retreat  from  Roanoke  Island.  Our  house 
was  visited  almost  daily  during  this  period  by  distin- 
guished military  and  naval  officers  from  the  city,  who 
came  to  express  their  interest  and  sympathy. 

It  was  before  the  day  of  steam  launches,  and  the  ap- 


THE   MERRIMAC   AND   THE   MONITOR  195 

pearance  of  the  distinguished  officers  and  of  the  naval 
boats  which  came  up,  manned  by  a  dozen  oarsmen,  whose 
stroke  fell  as  that  of  one  man,  was  very  striking.  During 
these  visits,  they  diverted  my  father  with  full  descriptions 
of  the  progress  made  in  arming  and  equipping  the  Vir- 
ginia, and  we  were  advised  that  the  time  of  her  comple- 
tion, and  the  attack  upon  the  vessels  in  Hampton  Roads, 
was  rapidly  approaching. 

There  was  dear  old  Commodore  Forrest,  tall,  dignified, 
and  with  a  face  as  sweet  as  that  of  a  woman,  surmounted 
by  a  great  shock  of  white  hair  like  the  mane  of  some  royal 
beast ;  and  Captain  Buchanan,  far  less  striking  in  appear- 
ance, quiet,  kindly,  and  as  unpretentious  as  a  country 
farmer,  but  with  an  eye  which  age  had  not  dimmed,  and 
which  even  then  was  filled  with  the  light  of  battle.  They 
were  both  old  men.  Commodore  Forrest  was  sixty-five, 
and  Captain  Buchanan  sixty-two.  There  was  also  Captain 
Brooke,  taciturn  and  dreamy ;  and  Lieutenant  Catesby 
Jones,  a  quiet  man  of  forty  ;  and  Lieutenant  Minor,  young, 
quick,  and  fidgety  as  a  wren ;  and  all  the  rest  of  them, 
mingling  with  us  simply  and  unostentatiously,  as  if  un- 
conscious that  the  issues  of  one  of  the  greatest  struggles 
the  world  ever  witnessed  were  committed  to  their  keeping, 
and  that  they  were  to  emerge  from  it  with  names  which 
will  be  remembered  as  long  as  the  records  of  naval  war- 
fare are  preserved. 

Almost  daily  we  boys  went  to  Norfolk  for  the  mail, 
or  on  some  domestic  mission.  We  preferred  our  boat, 
and  seldom  failed,  before  we  left  Norfolk  harbor,  to 
stand  over  toward  the  Gosport  Navy  Yard  and  sail  around 
and  take  a  look  at  the  Merrimac.  Such  we  called  her, 
for  we  had  never  become  accustomed  to  the  new  name, 
Virginia.  My  father  was  now  convalescent,  and  secured 
the  promise  that  he  would  be  advised  when  the  ship  was 


196  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

ready  to  sail  for  the  attack.  On  March  7,  he  received 
a  note  from  Commodore  Forrest,  or  one  of  those  who 
knew,  advising  him  that  the  attack  would  be  made  upon 
the  following  day.  He  consented  that  my  brother 
Richard  and  myself  should  accompany  him,  and  the  next 
morning  the  horses,  which  now  had  been  well  fed  and 
rested  for  a  month  at  home,  were  saddled  and  ready  for 
us  at  the  door. 

When  we  reached  the  city,  the  Merrimac,  accompanied 
by  two  little  gunboats,  the  Beaufort  and  the  Raleigh,  had 
already  passed  out,  and  all  three  were  below  Fort  Nor- 
folk. The  waterway  is  more  circuitous  than  that  by 
land,  and  we  were  sure  we  should  reach  Sewell's  Point,  the 
most  favorable  position  for  observing  the  conflict,  before 
the  slow-moving  vessels  ;  in  this  we  were  correct.  After 
a  sharp  gallop  of  eight  miles,  we  rode  out  upon  the  sandy 
hills  facing  Hampton  Roads  at  Sewell's  Point. 

The  scene  was  truly  inspiring.  Hampton  Roads  is  as 
beautiful  a  sheet  of  water  as  any  on  the  face  of  the  globe. 
It  is  formed  by  the  confluence  of  the  James,  the  Nanse- 
mond,  and  the  Elizabeth  rivers.  The  James  enters  it 
from  the  west,  the  Nansemond  from  the  south,  and  the 
Elizabeth  from  the  east.  The  tides  in  the  Roads  run 
north  and  south,  and  pass  to  and  from  the  Chesapeake 
Bay  through  a  narrow  entrance  at  the  north,  between  Old 
Point  Comfort  and  Willoughby's  Spit.  Midway  between 
these  is  the  fort  then  known  as  Rip-Raps,  the  proper 
name  of  which  was  Fort  Calhoun,  now  changed  to  Fort 
Wool.  On  the  eastern  side  of  the  Roads  the  Confeder- 
ates had  fortified  two  points,  —  Sewell's  Point,  where  we 
were,  and  Lambert's  Point,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Eliza- 
beth. On  the  southern  side,  between  the  mouths  of  the 
Elizabeth  and  Nansemond  rivers,  were  the  Confederate 
fortifications  on  Craney  Island.     On  the  western  side,  at 


THE   MERRIMAC   AND   THE   MONITOR  197 

the  entrance  to  the  Roads,  is  Fortress  Monroe.  From 
there  the  land  runs  westwardly  to  Hampton,  thence  south- 
wardly to  Newport  News,  which  marks  the  entrance  of 
the  James  River.  The  Roads  are  about  four  miles  in 
width  and  seven  in  length.  From  where  we  stood,  look- 
ing north,  Fortress  Monroe  and  the  Rip-Raps  were, 
perhaps,  four  miles  away  ;  looking  westward  across  the 
Roads,  Newport  News  was  five  miles  away  ;  and,  looking 
south,  Lambert's  Point  and  Craney  Island  were  plainly 
visible  three  miles  off. 

Upon  the  battlements  of  Fortress  Monroe  and  the  Rip- 
Raps  great  numbers  of  Union  troops  could  be  seen 
through  field-glasses,  and  we  could  also  make  out  the 
camps  and  fortifications  of  the  enemy  at  Newport  News, 
and  between  that  point  and  Hampton,  while  our  own 
people  lined  the  shores  and  crowded  the  ramparts  at 
Craney  Island  and  Lambert's  Point. 

Anchored  in  the  Roads  were  a  great  number  of  ves- 
sels of  every  description,  steam  and  sail,  from  the  smallest 
tugs  and  sloops  to  the  largest  transports  and  warships. 
Rumors  of  the  attack  had  brought  down  to  Sewell's 
Point  a  number  of  civilians,  and  the  whole  appearance 
of  the  scene  was  suggestive  of  the  greatest  performance 
ever  given  in  the  largest  theatre  ever  seen.  The  Merri- 
mac  and  her  attendants  had  passed  Craney  Island,  and 
were  coming  down  the  channel  east  of  Craney  Island 
light,  when  we  arrived.  As  she  passed  our  fortifications, 
she  was  saluted  and  cheered,  and  returned  the  salutes. 
From  the  way  in  which  she  was  shaping  her  course 
when  first  seen,  it  looked  to  the  uninitiated  as  if  she 
proposed  to  sail  directly  upon  the  Rip-Raps.  Such 
hurrying  and  scurrying  was  seen  among  the  non-combat- 
ant craft  in  the  Roads  as  was  never  witnessed  before. 
From   great  three-masters   and  double-deck  steamers  to 


198  THE   END   OF  AN  ERA 

little  tugs  and  sailboats,  all  weighed  or  slipped  anchor 
and  made  sail  or  steam  for  Fortress  Monroe,  except  three 
dauntless  war  vessels,  —  two  steamers,  the  Minnesota  and 
the  Roanoke,  and  one  sailing  vessel,  the  St.  Lawrence,  — 
whose  duty  called  them  in  the  opposite  direction.  A 
long  tongue  of  shoal,  running  out  from  Craney  Island, 
compelled  the  Merrimac  to  go  below  Sewell's  Point 
before  she  struck  the  main  channel ;  then  she  swung 
into  it  and  pointed  westward,  showing  her  destination, 
for  she  headed  straight  for  Newport  News,  where  the 
masts  and  spars  of  the  Congress  and  the  Cumberland  were 
plainly  visible. 

It  was  now  past  midday.  The  Merrimac  on  her  new 
course  was  nearly  stern  to  us,  and  grew  smaller  and 
smaller  as  she  followed  the  south  channel  to  Newport 
News.  The  three  United  States  vessels  —  Minnesota, 
Roanoke,  and  St.  Lawrence  —  started  after  her  by  what 
is  known  as  the  north  channel.  It  was  a  bitter  disap- 
pointment to  us  that  the  battle  was  to  be  waged  so  far 
away,  but  the  ships  and  their  movements  were  still  in 
view.  The  sun  was  shining,  and  a  fresh  March  breeze 
would,  we  thought,  blow  away  the  smoke.  It  seemed  an 
eternity  before  the  first  gun  was  fired.  The  Merrimac, 
Cumberland,  and  Congress  were  nearly  ranged  in  our 
line  of  vision.  The  Merrimac  appeared  to  us  as  if  she 
was  almost  in  contact  with  the  nearest  of  the  two  vessels. 
Captain  Buchanan  states  in  his  report  that  he  was  within 
less  than  a  mile  of  the  Cumberland  when  he  commenced 
the  engagement  by  a  shot  at  her  from  his  bow  gun.  We 
saw  a  great  puff  of  smoke  roll  up  and  float  off  from  the 
Merrimac ;  a  moment  later,  the  flashes  of  broadsides 
and  tremendous  rolls  of  smoke  from  the  Congress,  the 
Cumberland,  the  batteries  on  shore,  and  the  Union  gun- 
boats;   and    then    came    the   thunderous  sounds,  follow- 


THE   MERRIMAC   AND   THE   MONITOR  199 

ing  each  other  in  the  same  order  in  which  we  had  seen 
the  smoke.     The  engagement  had  begun. 

It  was  a  time  of  supreme  excitement  and  supreme 
suspense  ;  for  the  details,  we  who  had  no  glasses  were 
dependent  upon  those  who  had.  "  She  has  passed  the 
Congress !  "  exclaimed  an  officer,  who  was  straining  for- 
ward, trying  to  descry  the  positions  of  the  ships  through 
the  smoke,  which  now  enveloped  the  point  of  Newport 
News  and  the  water  beyond.  Bang  —  crash  —  roar  — 
went  the  guns,  single  shots  and  broadsides,  making  all 
the  noise  that  any  boy  could  wish.  "  She  is  heading 
direct  for  the  Cumberland !  "  shouted  another  between 
the  thunders  of  the  broadsides.  "  She  has  rammed  the 
Cumberland !  "  was  announced  fifteen  minutes  after  the 
first  gun  was  heard,  and  our  people  gave  three  cheers. 
Our  teeth  chattering  with  excitement,  we  awaited  the 
next  announcement ;  it  soon  came  :  "  The  Cumberland 
is  sinking ! "  and  again  we  cheered.  Then  came  an 
ominous  lull,  the  meaning  of  which  we  did  not  know. 
Those  watching  through  the  glasses  notified  us  that  three 
steamers  were  in  sight,  standing  down  Jamer.  River, 
and  we  knew  it  was  Commander  Tucker  with  the  Pat- 
rick Henry,  Jamestown,  and  Teazer.  Think  of  it !  The 
Jamestown,  which,  but  four  years  ago,  had  brought  the  re- 
mains of  President  Monroe  to  Richmond,  with  the  New 
York  Seventh  Regiment,  on  that  visit  of  fraternity  and 
good-will.  Here  she  was,  armed  as  a  war  vessel,  fight- 
ing those  very  men ! 

Once  more  the  cannon  belched  and  thundered.  This 
time  what  we  saw  and  heard  was  alarming :  "  The  Merri- 
mac  is  running  up  the  river,  away  from  the  Congress  and 
other  vessels  ;  she  is  fighting  the  shore  batteries  as  she 
goes."  It  looked  indeed  as  if  she  was  disabled  in  some 
way  ;  again  a  lull  and  anxious  waiting.     "  The  Merrimac 


200  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

is  turning  around  and  coming'  back  !  "  Again  the  roar 
of  a  hot  engagement  with  the  forts ;  another  lull  and 
another  heavy  roll.  "  She  is  back  pounding  the  Congress, 
and  raking  her  fore  and  aft.  The  Congress  is  aground." 
Again  our  people  went  wild  with  enthusiasm.  Poor  fel- 
lows on  the  Congress !  When  the  Merrimac  withdrew 
and  passed  upstream,  it  was  only  to  gain  deep  water  in 
order  to  wind  her,  for  where  she  had  rammed  the  Cum- 
berland, her  keel  was  in  the  mud  and  she  could  not  be 
put  about.  The  fearless  sailors  on  the  Congress,  deluded 
by  the  appearance  of  retreat,  believed  that  she  had  hauled 
off,  and,  leaving  their  guns,  gave  three  cheers.  Having 
brought  his  ship  around  into  position  to  attack  the  Con- 
gress, Captain  Buchanan  now  came  back  at  her,  and,  as 
he  approached,  blew  up  a  transport  alongside  the  wharf, 
sunk  one  schooner,  captured  another,  and  proceeded  to 
rake  the  Congress  where  she  had  run  ashore  in  shoal 
water. 

Describing  this  stage  of  the  fight,  Captain  Buchanan 
says  in  his  report :  "  The  carnage,  havoc,  and  dismay 
caused  by  our  fire  compelled  them  to  haul  down  their 
colors  and  to  hoist  a  white  flag  at  their  gaff  and  half  mast, 
and  another  at  the  main.  The  crew  instantly  took  to 
their  boats  and  landed.  Our  fire  immediately  ceased,  and 
a  signal  was  made  for  the  Beaufort  to  come  within  hail. 
He  then  ordered  Lieutenant  Commander  Parker  to  take 
possession  of  the  Congress,  secure  the  officers  as  prison- 
ers, allow  the  crew  to  land,  and  burn  the  ship.  This 
Captain  Parker  did,  receiving  her  flag  and  surrender 
from  Commander  Smith  and  Lieutenant  Pendergrast, 
with  the  sidearms  of  those  officers.  They  delivered  them- 
selves as  prisoners  of  war  on  board  the  Beaufort,  and 
afterwards  being  permitted,  at  their  own  request,  to 
return  to  the   ship  to  assist    in  removing  the  wounded, 


THE   MERRIMAC    AND   THE   MONITOR  201 

never  returned.  The  Beaufort  and  Raleigh,  while  along:- 
side  the  Congress  after  her  surrender,  and  while  she  had 
two  white  flags  flying,  were  subjected  to  a  heavy  fire  from 
the  shore  and  from  the  Congress,  and  withdrew  without 
setting  her  afire,  after  losing  several  valuable  officers  and 
men. 

Then  Lieutenant  Minor  was  sent  to  burn  the  ship, 
when  he  was  fired  upon  and  severely  wounded.  His  boat 
was  recalled,  and  Captain  Buchanan  ordered  the  Congress 
to  be  destroyed  by  hot  shot  and  incendiary  shell. 

By  this  time  the  ships  from  Old  Point  opened  fire  upon 
the  Merrimac.  The  Minnesota  grounded  in  the  North 
channel ;  the  shoalness  of  the  water  prevented  the  near 
approach  of  the  Merrimac.  The  Roanoke  and  St.  Law- 
rence, warned  by  the  fate  of  the  Cumberland  and  Con- 
gress, retired  under  the  guns  of  Fortress  Monroe.  The 
Merrimac  pounded  away  at  the  grounded  Minnesota  until 
the  pilots  warned  her  commander  that  it  was  no  longer 
safe  to  remain  in  that  position  ;  then,  returning  by  the 
south  channel,  she  had  an  opportunity  to  open  again  upon 
the  Minnesota,  although  the  shallow  water  was  between 
the  two ;  and  afterwards  upon  the  St.  Lawrence,  which 
responded  with  several  broadsides.  It  was  too  tantalizing 
to  see  these  vessels,  which  in  deep  water  would  have  been 
completely  at  her  mercy,  protected  from  her  assaults  by 
the  shoals.  By  this  time  it  was  dark,  and  the  Merrimac 
anchored  off  Sewell's  Point.  The  western  sky  was  illu- 
minated with  the  burning  Congress,  her  loaded  guns  were 
successively  discharged  as  the  flames  reached  them,  until, 
a  few  minutes  past  midnight,  her  magazine  exploded 
with  a  tremendous  report. 

Thus  ended  the  first  day's  doings  of  the  Merrimac. 
Soon  after  she  anchored,  some  of  her  officers  came  ashore, 
and  we,  who  had  been  waiting  all  day,  and  who  had  now 


202  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

decided  to  remain  all  night  in  order  to  see  the  next  day's 
operations,  were  gratified  with  a  full  and  graphic  descrip- 
tion of  the  fighting.  Captain  Buchanan,  Lieutenant 
Minor,  and  the  other  wounded  were  sent  to  Norfolk. 
Having  been  tendered  the  hospitality  of  Sewell's  Point 
by  some  of  the  officers,  our  party  remained,  and  were 
lulled  to  sleep  by  the  firing  of  the  guns  of  the  burning 
Congress,  and  rudely  aroused  about  midnight  by  the 
tremendous  explosion  of  her  magazine. 

Up  betimes  in  the  morning,  we  saw  the  Minnesota  still 
ashore.  She  was  nearly  in  line  with  us,  and  about  a  mile 
nearer  to  us  than  Newport  News.  A  tug  was  beside  her, 
and  a  very  odd-looking  iron  battery.  We  expected  great 
things  from  this  day's  operations.  About  eight  o'clock, 
the  Merrimac  ran  down  to  engage  them,  firing  at  the 
Minnesota,  and  occasionally  at  the  iron  battery.  She  was 
now  under  command  of  Lieutenant  Jones.  We  confi- 
dently expected  her  to  be  able  to  get  very  near  to  the 
Minnesota,  but  in  this  the  pilots  were  mistaken.  When 
about  a  mile  from  the  frigate,  she  ran  ashore,  and  was 
some  time  backing  before  she  got  afloat.  Her  great 
length  and  draught  rendered  it  difficult  to  work  her. 
Notwithstanding  these  delays,  she  succeeded  in  damaging 
the  Minnesota  seriously,  and  in  blowing  up  the  tug-boat 
Dragon  lying  alongside  her. 

While  this  was  going  on,  the  iron  battery,  which  looked 
like  a  cheese-box  floating  on  a  shingle,  moved  out  from 
behind  the  frigate  and  advanced  to  meet  the  Merrimac. 
The  disparity  in  size  between  the  two  was  remarkable ; 
we  could  not  doubt  that  the  Merrimac  would,  either  by 
shot  or  by  ramming,  make  short  work  of  the  cheese-box ; 
but  as  time  wore  on,  we  began  to  realize  that  the  new- 
comer was  a  tough  customer.  Her  turret  resisted  the 
shells  of  the  Merrimac,  and  not  only  was   she  speedier, 


THE   MERRIMAC   AND   THE   MONITOR  203 

but  her  draught  was  so  much  less  than  that  of  her  an- 
tagonist that  she  could  run  off  into  shallow  water  and 
prevent  the  Merriniac  from  ramming  her.  There  was  no 
lack  of  pluck  shown  by  either  vessel.  The  little  Monitor 
came  right  up  and  laid  herself  alongside  as  if  she  had 
been  a  giant.  She  was  quicker  in  every  way  than  her 
antagonist,  and  presented  the  appearance  of  a  saucy 
kingbird  pecking  at  a  very  large  and  very  black  crow. 

The  first  shot  fired  by  the  Merrimac  missed  the  Moni- 
tor, which  was  a  novel  experience  for  the  gunners  who 
had  been  riddling  the  hulls  of  frigates.  Then,  again,  when 
the  eleven-inch  solid  shot  struck  the  casemates,  knock- 
ing the  men  of  the  Merrimac  down  and  leaving  them 
dazed  and  bleeding  at  the  nose  from  the  tremendous 
impact,  they  realized  that  the  cheese-box  was  loaded  as 
none  of  the  other  vessels  had  been.  Neither  vessel  could 
penetrate  the  armor  of  the  other  ;  both  tried  ramming 
unsuccessfully :  the  Monitor  had  not  mass  sufficient  to 
injure  the  Merrimac  ;  the  Merrimac  only  gave  the  Moni- 
tor a  glancing  ram,  weakened  by  the  Monitor's  superior 
speed  ;  and  then  the  Monitor  ran  off  into  shallow  water, 
safe  from  pursuit. 

Twice  we  thought  the  Merrimac  had  won  the  fight. 
On  the  first  occasion,  the  Monitor  went  out  of  action,  it 
seems,  to  replenish  the  ammunition  in  the  turret,  it  being 
impossible  to  use  the  scuttle  by  which  ammunition  was 
passed  unless  the  turret  was  stationary  and  in  a  certain 
position.  The  second  occasion  was  about  eleven  o'clock, 
when  a  shell  from  the  Merrimac  struck  the  Monitor's 
pilot-house,  and  seemed  to  have  penetrated  the  ship. 
She  drifted  off  aimlessly  towards  shoal  water ;  her  guns 
were  silent,  and  the  people  on  board  the  Minnesota  gave 
up  hope  and  prepared  to  burn  her.  This  was  when 
Lieutenant  Worden,    commander   of   the    Monitor,    was 


204  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

blinded  and  the  steersman  stunned.  Their  position  was 
so  isolated  that  no  one  knew  their  condition  for  some 
minutes ;  then  Lieutenant  Greene  discovered  it,  took 
command,  and  brought  the  vessel  back  into  action. 

Shortly  afterwards,  Lieutenant  Jones  withdrew  the 
Merrimac.  In  his  report  of  the  action,  he  said  :  "  The 
pilots  declaring  that  we  could  get  no  nearer  the  Minne 
sota,  and  believing  her  to  be  entirely  disabled,  and  the 
Monitor  having  run  into  shoal  water,  which  prevented 
our  doing  her  any  further  injury,  we  ceased  firing  at 
twelve  o'clock  and  proceeded  to  Norfolk.  The  stem  is 
twisted  and  the  ship  leaks  ;  we  have  lost  the  prov',  star- 
board anchor,  and  all  the  boats.  The  armor  is  somewhat 
damaged,  the  steam-pipe  and  smoke-stack  both  riddled  ; 
the  muzzles  of  two  of  the  guns  shot  away." 

When  from  the  shore  we  saw  the  Merrimac  haul  off 
and  head  for  Norfolk,  we  could  not  credit  the  evidence  ol 
our  own  senses.  "  Ah !  "  we  thought,  "  dear  old  Buch- 
anan would  never  have  done  it."  Lieutenant  Jones  was 
afterwards  fully  justified  by  his  superiors,  but  it  did 
seem  to  us  that  he  ought  to  have  stayed  there  until  he 
drove  the  Monitor  away.  Beside  the  reasons  assigned 
above,  Lieutenant  Jones  declared  that  it  was  necesary  tc 
leave  when  he  did,  in  order  to  cross  the  Elizabeth  Rivei 
bar.  The  inconclusive  result  of  that  fight  has  left  tc 
endless  discussion  among  naval  men  the  question,  "  Which 
was  the  better  ship  of  the  two  ?  "  It  is  not  within  the 
scope  of  this  volume  to  investigate  that  problem.  It  is 
certain  that,  up  to  the  time  the  Monitor  appeared,  the 
Merrimac  seemed  irresistible,  and  that  but  for  the  pre- 
sence of  the  Monitor,  she  would  have  made  short  work 
of  the  Minnesota.  It  is  equally  certain  that  the  Moni- 
tor performed  her  task  of  defense.  It  is  said  she  was 
anxious   to  renew   the   fight ;  but  two   weeks   later,  the 


THE   MERRIMAC   AND   THE   MONITOR  205 

Merrimac  went  clown  into  deep  water,  where  the  Monitor 
was  lying  under  the  guns  of  Fortress  Monroe,  and  tried  to 
coax  her  out,  but  she  would  not  come,  and  even  permitted 
the  Jamestown  and  Beaufort  to  sail  up  to  Hampton  and 
capture  two  schooners  laden  with  hay.  The  truth  is 
that,  if  the  Merrimac  could  have  induced  the  Monitor  to 
meet  her  in  deep  water,  she  would  easily  have  rammed 
and  sunk  her. 

On  our  ride  back  to  the  city,  my  father,  while  greatly 
elated  at  what  had  been  done,  continued  to  deplore  the 
errors  of  construction  in  the  Merrimac,  which  the  two 
days'  fighting  had  made  all  the  more  manifest ;  but  we 
boys  thought  she  had  earned  glory  enough,  and  joined  the 
others  in  the  general  jubilation. 

Everybody  in  Norfolk  knew  the  officers  and  men  on 
board  our  ships  ;  many  of  them  were  natives  of  the  town. 
When  they  were  granted  shore  leave,  they  were  given  a 
triumphal  reception.  Some  time  since,  I  read  an  account 
of  the  Dutch  admiral,  De  Ruyter,  who,  the  day  after  his 
four  days'  battle  with  the  English  fleet,  was  seen  in  his 
yard  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  with  a  basket  on  his  arm,  feeding 
his  hens  and  sweeping  out  his  cabin.  It  reminded  me 
of  the  simple  lives  and  unpretentious  behavior  of  those 
splendid  fellows  who  handled  the  Merrimac.  Yesterday, 
they  revolutionized  the  naval  warfare  of  the  world ;  to-day, 
they  were  walking  about  the  streets  of  Norfolk,  or  sitting 
at  their  firesides,  as  if  unaware  that  fame  was  trumpeting 
their  names  to  the  ends  of  the  earth. 


CHAPTER   XIV 
A   REFUGEE 

Notwithstanding  our  elation  over  the  performances 
of  the  Merrimac,  which  every  one  in  the  Confederacy  re- 
garded as  brilliant  victories,  the  fact  that  Norfolk  was  in 
imminent  peril  became  more  and  more  apparent. 

The  lodgment  gained  by  the  Union  forces  at  Roanoke, 
and  their  possession  of  the  sounds  and  rivers  on  the  North 
Carolina  coast,  had  given  them  control  of  the  canals  tribu- 
tary to  the  city,  and  their  presence  was  a  constant  menace 
to  the  railroads,  which  were  now  the  chief  remaining 
means  of  supplies.  Union  troops  could  at  any  time  be 
transported  up  the  North  Carolina  rivers  to  within  a  few 
miles  of  the  Seaboard  and  Petersburg  lines. 

If  our  army  should  at  any  time  retreat  from  the  lower 
peninsula  between  the  York  and  the  James,  the  Peters- 
burg line  would  be  further  imperiled  ;  for  in  that  event,  it 
would  be  easy  to  throw  a  force  of  Union  troops  across  the 
James  to  cut  the  railroad.  The  fifteen  thousand  Con- 
federate troops  in  and  about  Norfolk  would  then  be  in  a 
position  of  extreme  danger. 

These  things  were,  of  course,  much  more  apparent  to 
those  in  command  than  to  us  boys  ;  but  throughout  March 
and  April  we  saw  and  heard  enough  to  make  us  realize 
that  there  was  a  grave  prospect  that  Norfolk  might  at  any 
time  be  evacuated,  and  our  home  left  within  the  Union 
lines. 

My  father  became  so  thoroughly  satisfied  of  the  ap- 


A   REFUGEE  207 

proaehing  evacuation  of  Norfolk  that  he  suspended  farm- 
ing' operations,  directed  the  sale  of  surplus  stock  to  the 
Confederate  commissary,  ordered  that  all  the  hogs  should 
be  killed  and  cured,  and  that  all  the  corn  upon  the  place 
should  be  ground  and  sold.  Out  of  abundant  precaution, 
the  family  was  removed  in  the  latter  part  of  April  to  the 
vicinity  of  Richmond,  and  thither  also  were  sent  a  num- 
ber of  the  young,  able-bodied  slaves. 

Meanwhile,  his  military  duties  called  him  to  Richmond, 
where  he  was  placed  in  command  of  the  inner  line  of  de- 
fenses at  Chaffm's  farm,  on  the  James  River. 

Our  home  was  thus  left  in  the  temporary  custody  of  the 
miller,  a  white  man,  and  a  few  of  the  old  trusted  slaves, 
my  father  having  arranged  with  a  friend  in  Norfolk,  a 
man  past  the  age  of  military  service,  that,  in  the  event  of 
the  evacuation  of  the  city,  he  would  move  out  and  take 
possession  of  Rolleston,  occupy  it,  and  as  far  as  possible 
act  as  protector. 

About  May  1,  satisfied  that  the  crisis  was  near  at  hand, 
my  father  gave  my  brother  Richard  a  leave  of  absence, 
and  he  and  I,  with  an  orderly,  were  sent  to  Rolleston  to 
do  what  we  could  towards  disposing  of  the  remaining 
stock,  and  shipping  our  movables  to  a  place  of  safety. 

The  plans  of  the  military  authorities  were  of  course 
guarded  with  as  much  secrecy  as  possible,  but  upon  our 
journey  to  Norfolk,  the  crowded  condition  of  the  railroads 
and  the  immense  shipments  of  government  stores  and 
munitions  not  only  confirmed  us  in  the  opinion  that 
this  was  preparatory  to  evacuation,  but  satisfied  us  it  was 
almost  idle  to  hope  to  secure  transportation  for  our  pri- 
vate effects. 

Still,  we  hustled  around  in  a  very  lively  way.  We  sold 
some  horses  and  cattle  to  the  government,  and,  with  a 
little  more  time,  would  have  succeeded  fairly  well  in  strip- 


208  THE  END   OF  AN  ERA 

ping  the  old  place  "  down  to  bare  poles,"  as  the  sailors 
say.  It  was  a  sad  and  lonely  mission.  The  farm  was 
just  beginning  to  assume  an  orderly  and  well-kept  appear- 
ance. Two  years  of  hard  work,  and  the  expenditure  of  a 
large  amount  of  money  in  new  buildings  and  fences  and 
in  painting,  had  brought  it  out  wonderfully.  New  roads 
had  been  built,  trees  had  been  planted,  and  ragged  spots 
had  been  cleaned  up,  until  Rolleston,  while  nothing  grand 
or  fine,  was  a  sweet,  home-like  old  farm,  endeared  to  us 
especially  by  the  memory  of  the  delightful  days  of  boy- 
hood which  we  had  spent  there.  Now  everything  about 
it  was  gloomy  and  sad  enough.  Not  a  human  being  was 
in  the  house  with  us,  except  Skaggs,  the  white  orderly, 
who  was  sent  to  assist  us,  and  old  Aunt  Mary  Anne,  the 
cook,  and  Jim,  the  butler.  Jim  my  father  regarded  as 
his  man  Friday.  Jim  was  to  accompany  us  on  our  return 
to  Richmond.  Nobody  doubted  that  one  so  faithful  and 
so  long  trusted  would  prove  true  in  this  emergency. 

We  wandered  back  and  forth  through  the  old  house, 
looking  over  the  deserted  rooms  to  see  what  particular 
articles,  most  prized,  we  might  wrap  in  small  packages 
for  removal,  in  case  we  could  not  arrange  for  the  trans- 
portation of  everything.  It  was  a  difficult  problem  to 
solve.  The  house  was  filled  with  souvenirs  from  all  parts 
of  Europe  and  North  and  South  America.  That  was 
before  the  days  of  bricabrac,  but  our  house  abounded  in 
the  things  now  so  called.  Our  drawing-room  contained 
several  pictures  of  great  value,  and  many  valuable  histori- 
cal relics.  Among  the  pictures  were  the  original  of  Her- 
ring's Village  Blacksmith  ;  a  beautiful  Bacchante,  painted 
in  1829  by  Pauline  Laurent,  presented  to  my  father  by 
Baron  Lomonizoff ;  and  a  set  of  exquisite  Teniers  (paint- 
ings of  Dutch  drinking-scenes),  beside  sundry  works  of 
less  note  but  great  value.     The   cabinets  were  literally 


A  REFUGEE  209 

loaded  with  pretty  souvenirs  of  foreign  travel,  and  articles 
of  historic  interest. 

We  determined  that  these  things  should  be  first  packed 
and  shipped,  and  had  succeeded,  on  our  visit  to  the  city 
the  day  before,  in  securing  a  promise  from  a  friend  in  the 
transportation  department  that,  if  we  had  them  in  Norfolk 
the  next  day,  he  would  send  them  through  for  us,  even 
if  they  went  along  with  government  goods.  Accordingly, 
we  had  ordered  up  the  lumber  for  boxing  them,  and  with 
Skaggs  and  Jim  were  just  preparing  to  pack,  when,  look- 
ing out  of  the  window,  we  saw,  rapidly  approaching  in  a 
buggy,  the  friend  whom  our  father  had  engaged  to  occupy 
the  farm  in  case  Norfolk  was  evacuated.  As  he  drove  up 
to  the  yard  gate,  opened  it  hastily,  and  hurried  to  the 
front  steps,  he  exclaimed  excitedly,  even  before  alighting, 
"  The  Yankees  are  coming !  The  Yankees  are  coming  ! 
You  had  better  get  out  of  here  quickly,  if  you  don't  want 
them  to  catch  you !  "  Then,  in  calmer  tones,  he  told  us 
that  the  city  was  being  evacuated  ;  that  the  garrison  from 
Sewell's  Point  and  Lambert's  Point  had  been  withdrawn 
during  the  night,  and,  together  with  the  troops  in  the 
intrenched  camps  between  us  and  Norfolk,  had  all  been 
marched  into  the  city,  and  transported  quietly  under 
cover  of  darkness  to  the  south  side  of  the  Elizabeth  River ; 
that  the  work  of  destroying  the  Gosport  Navy  Yard  at 
Portsmouth  had  begun  ;  that  the  Merrimac  had  sailed  out 
of  the  harbor  to  go  up  James  River ;  that  the  enemy  at 
Fortress  Monroe  were  landing  troops  at  Sewell's  Point  and 
Willoughby's  Spit ;  that  they  were  rapidly  approaching, 
if  they  had  not  already  reached,  the  city ;  and  that  there 
was  not  a  Confederate  soldier  between  us  and  them. 

It  took  us  about  two  minutes  to  decide  upon  our  course 
of  action.  By  taking  the  Princess  Anne  County  road 
via  Great  Bridge,  we  could  pass  around  the  head  of  the 


210  THE   END   OF   AN  ERA 

eastern  branch  of  the  Elizabeth  River,  and,  going  thence 
westwardly  to  Suffolk,  get  once  more  within  the  Confed- 
erate lines.  We  bore  in  mind  that  the  Union  troops  in 
North  Carolina  were  probably  acting  in  concert  with  those 
at  Fortress  Monroe,  and,  marching  up  from  the  South, 
might  intercept  us.  Skaggs  hurried  to  the  stable,  har- 
nessed four  mules  to  a  farm  wagon,  and  went  straight  to 
the  smoke  house.  We  harnessed  a  pair  of  carriage  horses 
to  our  best  carriage,  and  proceeded  to  the  house.  The 
faithful  Jim  was  on  hand  to  aid  in  loading  the  carriage 
with  such  silverware  and  valuables  as  it  would  hold,  and 
such  of  the  farm  hands  as  were  left  aided  Skaggs  in 
loading  the  wagon  with  meat. 

Just  before  we  were  ready  to  start,  Jim  disappeared. 
In  vain  we  called  and  searched  for  him.  We  never  saw 
him  again.  The  prospect  of  freedom  overcame  a  lifetime 
of  love  and  loyalty.  There  never  was  an  hour  of  his  life 
at  which  he  could  not  have  had  his  freedom  for  the 
asking.  He  had  several  times  refused  it.  But  now  the 
opportunity  was  irresistible. 

Skaggs  with  his  wagon  drove  out  ahead  of  us.  My 
brother  for  the  last  time  disappeared  in  the  house.  When 
he  returned,  he  had  in  his  hands  a  long  roll  of  canvas. 
He  had  with  his  knife  cut  "  The  Village  Blacksmith  "  out 
of  its  frame,  and  wrapped  it  upon  a  roller.  We  tied  it 
firmly,  and  strapped  it  in  the  top  of  the  carriage.  After 
the  war,  we  sold  that  picture  for  fifteen  hundred  dollars, 
and  the  money  came  at  a  very  good  time.  During  the 
present  year  (1897),  the  press  has  announced  its  sale  in 
England  at  a  very  large  sum.  Some  years  afterwards, 
I  found  the  Bacchante  of  Pauline  Laurent  in  the  parlor 
of  a  Union  volunteer  general  in  Washington,  and  have  it 
now.  He  delivered  it  upon  a  very  persuasive  note  from 
General  Schofield,  then  Secretary  of  War.     Our  Teniers 


A  REFUGEE  211 

paintings,  and  several  others  of  considerable  value,  have 
never  been  recovered.  Soon  after  the  war  ended,  General 
Brown,  of  the  Freedmen's  Bureau,  returned  to  my  father 
a  valuable  meerschaum  pipe,  the  gift  of  the  King  of  Hol- 
land to  a  friend ;  and  when  I  was  in  Congress,  General 
B.  F.  Butler  presented  me  with  a  cup  made  from  the  ori- 
ginal timber  of  the  United  States  ship  Constitution,  re- 
ceived by  my  father  from  Captain  Percival,  of  the  navy. 
Thus,  from  time  to  time,  a  few  of  the  things  we  left  that 
day  drifted  back  to  us  ;  but  the  great  bulk  of  them  were 
swept  out  by  the  tide,  and  lost  upon  the  all-engulfing  sea 
of  war.  My  father's  correspondence,  which  was  very 
extensive,  was  left  in  his  library.  It  was  placed  by  the 
Union  authorities  in  the  hands  of  the  late  Ben:  Perley 
Poore,  of  Boston,  for  examination.  It  was  said  that  the 
chief  purpose  of  such  searches  was  to  find,  if  possible, 
disloyal  correspondence  between  Southern  leaders  and 
people  in  the  North  known  as  Southern  sympathizers. 
Many  years  after  the  war,  a  box  of  unimportant  letters  was 
returned  to  me  by  one  of  the  departments.  The  valuable 
portions  of  the  correspondence  were  missing.  When  Mr. 
Poore  died,  a  few  years  ago,  his  effects  were  advertised 
for  sale,  and  among  them  were  a  great  number  of  letters 
from  my  father's  files. 

We  bade  farewell  to  Rolleston  with  heavy  hearts,  and 
bent  our  cheerless  way  to  Great  Bridge.  Even  before 
we  left,  the  explosions  in  Norfolk  began,  and  we  heard 
them  as  we  drove  along.  We  were  very  anxious  lest  the 
enemy,  coming  up  from  the  South,  should  reach  Great 
Bridge  before  we  did,  but  we  passed  it  safely,  and  late  in 
the  night  reached  Suffolk.  It  was  a  profound  relief  when 
we  found  ourselves  once  more  safely  within  the  Confeder- 
ate lines.  We  saved  our  bacon  in  more  senses  than  one ; 
for  a  party  of  Union  troops  reached  our  place  a  few  hours 


212  THE   END   OF  AN  ERA 

after  we  left  it,  and  the  next  day  the  Union  forces  oc- 
cupied the  route  we  had  traveled  to  Suffolk.  Not  long 
after  our  arrival  there,  we  heard  an  unusually  loud  explo- 
sion, which,  as  we  afterwards  learned,  was  the  blowing-up 
of  the  magazine  of  the  Merrimac,  an  event  which  de- 
pressed us  greatly. 

Reaching  Richmond  after  several  days'  quiet  driving, 
we  were  directed  to  proceed  to  my  sister's  home  in  Gooch- 
land County,  whither  the  women  of  our  family  had  pre- 
ceded us.  There  I  remained  until  shortly  after  the  seven 
days'  fighting  about  Richmond,  when  I  was  sent  in  charge 
of  some  of  our  slaves  to  a  temporary  home  secured  by  my 
father  in  the  mountains  of  southwest  Virginia,  at  Rocky 
Mount,  in  Franklin  County.  He  correctly  foresaw  that, 
whatever  happened,  no  enemy  would  penetrate  into  that 
remote  region. 

Before  our  departure  for  Franklin  County,  I  made  sev- 
eral visits  to  Richmond,  which  was  now  on  all  occasions 
crowded  to  overflowing  with  troops.  The  most  vivid  im- 
pression of  handsome  soldiery  made  upon  me  during  the 
war  was  by  the  Third  Alabama  Regiment.  In  the  two 
months  which  had  elapsed  since  the  evacuation  of  Nor- 
folk, I  had  not  seen  the  regiment.  Of  its  splendid  con- 
duct in  the  battle  of  Seven  Pines,  and  in  the  other  en- 
gagements, I  had  of  course  heard,  and,  knowing  many  of 
its  members,  was  naturally  interested  in  everything  con- 
cerning it.  Passing  along  the  streets  of  Richmond  one 
day,  I  saw  three  or  four  soldiers,  looking  as  ragged  and 
dirty  as  the  average,  and  I  should  have  passed  them  by 
without  further  attention  but  for  hearing  my  name  called. 
Then  it  was  I  recognized  a  party  of  the  dear  old  boys 
whom  I  had  known  in  the  intrenched  camp  at  Norfolk. 
It  is  impossible  to  convey  any  idea  of  the  change  which 
had  been  wrought  in  their  appearance  by  two  months  of 


A   REFUGEE  213 

hard  campaigning  on  the  Peninsula.  Their  uniforms, 
once  so  neat,  were  worn  and  torn  and  patched,  marked 
with  mud  and  clay,  and  scorched  by  camp-fires.  Their 
bright  buttons  and  trimmings  had  lost  all  lustre.  Their 
hair  was  long,  the  freshness  of  their  complexions  gone, 
and  their  eyes  seemed  lustreless  and  bleared  by  camp-fire 
smoke.  Even  their  voices  were  softened  and  subdued. 
Oh  !  nobody  knows,  until  he  has  seen  it,  how  marching 
and  fighting  by  day,  and  sleeping  under  the  stars  or  in 
the  storm  at  night,  can  wear  men  out.  The  Third  Ala- 
bama had  had  many  a  hard  knock  since  we  parted.  In 
one  of  its  earliest  engagements,  it  had  been  subjected  by 
the  mistake  of  some  commander  to  a  murderous  attack, 
in  which  it  lost  its  noble  colonel,  Lomax,  whose  body 
was  never  found.  I  was  shocked  and  surprised,  upon 
inquiry  for  this  or  that  light-hearted  fellow  whom  I  had 
known  in  the  gay  days  of  mandolin  and  guitar  and  moon- 
light sails,  when  they  camped  at  Norfolk,  to  hear  that 
he  was  killed  at  such  a  place,  or  wounded  at  such  a 
place,  or  lay  ill  in  such  and  such  hospital,  or  was  granted 
sick  leave.  Nothing  I  had  ever  seen  or  heard  before 
so  brought  home  to  me  the  vivid  realization  that  this  war 
was  becoming  all-consuming  and  all-devouring. 

"  And  where  is  the  regiment  now?"  I  asked.  It  was 
on  the '  nine-mile  road,  facing  the  enemy,  about  seven 
miles  from  the  city,  near  the  Chickahominy  bottoms,  wait- 
ing to  yield  up  yet  other  victims  to  the  Confederate  cause 
.in  the  seven  days'  fighting  about  Richmond.  That  even- 
ing, I  rode  down  to  see  them,  but  there  was  little  to  cheer 
one  in  the  visit.  There  were  no  more  terts,  or  cooks,  or 
attendant  servants,  or  bright  uniforms,  or  bands,  or  dress 
parades.  The  camp  was  located  in  a  copse  of  pines  in 
rear  of  a  line  of  breastworks  from  which  the  Union 
troops  had  been  driven  in  the  battle  of  Seven  Pines,  and 


214  THE   END   OF  AN   E£A 

which  were  now  made  to  face  the  enemy.  The  men  slept 
on  the  ground,  without  any  covering.  The  few  camp-fires 
were  built  along  the  line,  and  the  eoldiers  were  cooking 
their  own  rough  fare.  Out  at  th.s  front,  picket  firing 
resounded  all  along  the  line,  and  the  men  seemed  to  be 
silently  brooding  upon  the  deadly  storm  then  gathering. 
The  seven  days'  fighting,  from  Mechanics ville  to  Malvern 
Hill,  began  a  little  later,  and  many  another  friend  among 
them  yielded  up  his  life  in  those  sultry  summer  days  of 
1862. 

As  we  were  returning  to  Richmond  that  afternoon, 
attracted  by  artillery  firing  upon  the  Mechanics  ville  pike, 
we  rode  out  to  Strawberry  Hill,  a  beautiful  farm  over- 
looking the  Chickahominy  valley,  and  witnessed  an  artil- 
lery duel  between  Captain  Lindsay  Walker's  battery  and 
a  Union  battery  stationed  in  a  field  just  above  Mechan- 
icsville.  The  firing  was  across  the  Chickahominy  valley. 
Through  field-glasses,  large  masses  of  the  enemy  were 
plainly  visible  about  Mechanicsville,  and  the  spires  of 
Richmond  were  the  background  of  the  battery  at  which 
the  Union  troops  were  firing.  One  of  General  McClel- 
lan's  anchored  balloons  rode  high  in  the  heavens  behind 
Mechanicsville,  and  altogether  the  sight  was  exceedingly 
inspiring.  The  distance  between  the  combatants  was  not 
more  than  two  miles  ;  but  the  damage  done  in  these  en- 
counters, with  the  short-ranged  artillery  of  that  day,  was 
insignificant. 

It  was  on  this  occasion  that  I  first  saw  President  Davis, 
who  had  ridden  out  with  several  members  of  his  staff  to 
inspect  the  lines.  Mr.  Davis  was  an  excellent  horseman, 
and  looked  well  on  horseback.  He  had  a  passion  for  mili- 
tary life,  and  was  a  man  of  cool  nerves  under  fire.  His 
presence  was  always  greeted  with  considerable  enthusiasm 
by  the  troops,  although  he  never  had  the  hold  upon  their 


A  REFUGEE  215 

hearts  possessed  by  "  Ole  Joe,"  or  "  Mars'  Robert,"  as 
General  Johnston  and  General  Lee  were  called.  I  do  not 
recollect  distinctly  who  accompanied  him,  but  have  an 
impression  that  his  young  secretary,  Burton  Harrison, 
was  one  of  the  party.  It  was  a  time  of  deep  solicitude 
for  Mr.  Davis,  no  doubt,  as  the  army  had  just  changed 
commanders.  General  Johnston  had  been  wounded  at 
Seven  Pines,  and  General  Lee  had  been  relieved  from 
duty  at  Charleston  and  appointed  to  succeed  him. 

The  war  had  by  this  time  produced  two  comparatively 
new  industries.  One  was  the  issuing  of  "  shinplaster  " 
currency,  and  the  other  was  the  manufacture  of  fruit 
brandy. 

The  United  States  laws  relating  to  currency  and  reve- 
nue no  longer  obtained,  and  the  Confederate  laws  had 
not  been  put  into  enforcement.  The  lack  of  small  cur- 
rency soon  gave  rise  to  the  issue  of  one  dolls  r  and  fifty- 
cent  and  twenty-five-cent  bills,  by  nearly  all  the  towns 
and  counties  of  the  State.  Private  bankers  also  issued 
these  bills,  and  even  private  individuals.  I  remember 
particularly  one  Sylvester  P.  Cocke,  an  old  fellow  who 
had  formerly  kept  a  country  store  at  Dover  Mills,  in 
Goochland  County.  In  1862,  he  had  a  little  office  upon 
the  bank  of  the  "  Basin  "  or  terminus  of  the  James  River 
and  Kanawha  Canal,  in  Richmond.  The  office  was  not 
exceeding  ten  feet  square,  and  stood  in  the  corner  of  a 
large  vacant  coal-yard.  Mr.  Cocke's  banking  facilities 
consisted  of  a  table,  a  small  safe,  a  stack  of  sheets  of  bills, 
and  a  stout  pair  of  shears.  He  had  his  I.  O.  XL's  printed 
on  ordinary  letter-paper.  They  had  in  one  corner  a  pic- 
ture of  a  mastiff  lying  in  front  of  an  iron  safe,  holding 
its  key  between  his  paws,  and,  besides  the  date,  declared, 
"  On  demand  I  promise  to  pay  to  bearer  "  one  dollar, 
fifty  cents,  or  twenty-five  cents,  or  ten  cents,  and  were 


216  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

signed  by  Sylvester  P.  Cocke  in  a  clerical  hand.  There 
he  sat  signing,  or  clipping  his  promises  apart  with  his 
shears,  and,  although  Mr.  Cocke's  means  of  redemption 
were  an  unknown  factor,  his  notes  passed  current  with 
people  in  Richmond,  and  all  through  the  valley  of  the 
James,  as  if  they  had  been  obligations  of  the  Bank  of 
England. 

Everybody  in  the  country  was  engaged  in  converting 
his  fruit  into  brandy.  Wherever  there  was  a  clear  stream 
and  a  neighboring  orchard,  there  was  sure  to  be  a  still. 
Where  all  these  stills  and  worms  and  kettles  came  from, 
nobody  could  conjecture.  It  was  a  great  fruit  year,  and 
there  were  no  markets,  and  it  was  apparent  that  liquor 
would  be  scarce  and  high.  In  July,  1862,  I  drove  our 
horses  and  carriage  from  a  point  just  above  Richmond  to 
the  abode  of  the  family  in  Franklin  County,  a  distance  of 
two  hundred  miles  or  more,  and  I  feel  confident  that  there 
was  not  ten  miles  upon  the  route  in  which  I  did  not  pass 
one  or  more  fruit  distilleries. 

The  passion  for  speculating  in  things  which  were  likely 
to  become  high-priced  as  the  war  progressed  took  posses- 
sion of  everybody  about  this  time.  Staple  articles,  like 
sugar  and  coffee  and  flour,  were  growing  scarce.  Pru- 
dent housekeepers  who  had  the  means  to  procure  these 
things  laid  in  large  supplies.  Speculators  were  buying 
them  up,  and  storing  them  for  the  rise  which  was  sure  to 
come.  About  this  time  also,  in  view  of  the  scarcity  of 
sugar  and  molasses,  people  began  to  cultivate  sorghum, 
which  thrived  in  our  climate,  and  yielded  a  reasonably 
good  substitute  for  cane  molasses. 

But  the  spirit  of  speculation  was  not  confined  to  the 
larger  products ;  it  extended  to  every  variety  of  small 
manufactured  articles.  On  my  drive  to  Rocky  Mount,  I 
stopped  one  night  in  Buckingham  County  with  an  old  fel- 


A  REFUGEE  217 

low  who  had  a  wayside  tavern  and  a  country  store.  Dur- 
ing the  evening,  conversation  turned  upon  the  increased 
price  of  everything,  and  the  profits  to  be  made  by  pur- 
chasing and  holding  articles  which  it  would  soon  be  diffi- 
cult to  procure.  I  became  infected  with  the  trading 
spirit,  and  on  the  following  morning  nry  host  admitted  me 
to  his  store  to  inspect  his  stock,  and  determine  whether 
there  was  anything  which  I  particularly  desired. 

War  had  made  sad  changes  in  the  appearance  of  coun- 
try stores.  The  shelves,  once  filled  with  bright  prints  and 
cloths  and  rolls  of  gleaming  white  goods,  were  now  almost 
empty.  Only  here  and  there  were  a  few  bolts  of  common 
cloth,  such  as  the  Confederate  mills  could  produce.  The 
posts  were  no  longer  decorated  with  bright  trace-chains 
and  horse-collars  and  currycombs,  but  simply  displayed 
a  few  rough  shuck  collars  and  improvised  farming  gear. 
The  showcases  had  been  utterly  cleaned  out  of  their  stock 
of  ribbons  and  laces,  cakes  and  candies,  and  cotton  and 
scissors  and  gilt  things.  Perfumed  soaps  and  toilet  arti- 
cles, the  glory  of  country  stores  in  peace  time,  had  dis- 
appeared. A  few  skeins  of  yarn  for  knitting  socks,  and 
cakes  of  home-made  soap  and  moulds  of  beeswax,  a  few 
chunks  of  maple-sugar,  all  at  very  high  prices,  constituted 
about  all  the  stock  in  trade  that  was  left.  I  cast  about  in 
vain  for  rare  articles  in  which  to  invest  for  a  rise,  until  at 
last  I  spied,  upon  a  dusty  shelf,  a  box  of  watch-crystals  ! 
Timidly  I  inquired  the  price,  and  it  was  not  very  high. 

"  Do  you  think  they  will  increase  in  value  ?  "  I  asked 
hesitatingly. 

"  Increase  ?  "  said  the  storekeeper  ;  "  young  man,  you 
have  a  trader's  instincts.  Increase  ?  Why,  in  a  year 
there  will  not  be  a  watch-crystal  in  the  Confederacy.  You 
can  name  your  own  profit,  and  anybody  will  be  glad  to 
give  it."     So  I  bought  the  nest  of  watch-crystals,  feeling 


218  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

sure  I  had  a  fortune  in  them.  Perhaps  I  should  have 
made  a  great  profit.  With  this  idea  firmly  in  my  mind, 
I  nursed  them  carefully  for  several  days,  fully  intending 
to  put  them  aside  until  watch-crystals  were  at  the  top 
notch  of  Confederate  prices,  and  then  pocket  a  princely 
gain ;  but  unfortunately,  before  I  reached  the  end  of  that 
journey,  I  one  day,  in  a  fit  of  absent-mindedness,  sat  down 
upon  the  seat  in  the  carriage  beneath  which  my  watch- 
crystals  were  stored,  and  thus  ended  my  first  and  last 
Confederate  speculation. 


CHAPTER  XV 

AMONG   THE   MOUNTAINS 

Rocky  Mount,  our  place  of  refuge,  was  a  typical  Vir- 
ginia mountain  village.  Even  at  this  present  time,  when 
it  has  its  railroad  and  telegraph,  one  in  search  of  seclu- 
sion from  the  outside  world  might  safely  select  it  for  his 
purpose.  Month  after  month,  year  after  year,  roll  by 
without  other  things  to  vary  its  monotony  than  the  horse- 
tradings,  or  public  speakings,  or  private  brawls  of  court 
days,  or  an  occasional  religious  "revival." 

But  in  the  summer  of  1862,  the  excitement  of  war, 
and  the  feverish  anxiety  to  know  of  its  progress,  and  the 
unusual  activity  in  every  sort  of  trading,  pervaded  even 
that  secluded  locality. 

The  nearest  point  to  us  reached  by  railroad  or  telegraph 
was  a  station  named  Big  Lick,  upon  the  Virginia  and 
Tennessee  Railroad,  in  the  county  of  Roanoke.  Round 
about  Big  Lick,  whose  population  did  not  exceed  thirty 
persons,  the  valley  of  the  Roanoke  River  was,  as  it 
still  is,  a  veritable  land  of  Goshen.  The  adjacent  farms, 
now  covered  by  the  populous  city  of  Roanoke,  were  in 
a  state  of  excellent  cultivation,  and  counted  among  the 
most  fertile  in  that  beautiful  valley.  Hereabouts  were  the 
stately  homes  of  the  Tayloes,  the  Wattses,  the  Preston s, 
and  many  other  representatives  of  the  oldest  and  wealth- 
iest families  of  southwestern  Virginia. 

When  a  visitor  known  to  them  arrived  at  Big  Lick,  it 
was  useless,  whithersoever  he  was  bound  or   howsoever 


220  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

urgent  his  mission,  to  decline  their  generous  hospitality. 
He  was  sure  to  encounter  some  of  them  at  the  station, 
and  no  protestation  availed  against  first  accompanying 
them  to  their  homes,  and  then  accepting  their  equipages 
in  lieu  of  the  public  conveyance  for  the  remainder  of  his 
journey. 

My  brother  Henry,  being  a  clergyman  and  non-com- 
batant, was  in  charge  of  our  family  in  Franklin.  After 
driving  our  horses  across  country  and  conducting  our 
slaves  to  their  new  abode,  I  again  went  East  for  some 
household  effects,  and  he  and  I,  returning  together  to  Big 
Lick,  were  there  seized  upon  by  some  friends,  detained  for 
several  days,  and  finally  dispatched  to  our  journey's  end 
in  the  private  vehicle  of  a  Mr.  Tinsley.  His  home  stood 
near  the  river  bank,  in  a  handsome  inclosure,  surrounded 
by  fields  of  harvested  wheat,  where  the  very  heart  of  the 
city  of  Roanoke  is  now  located. 

His  adjoining  neighbors,  not  far  distant,  were  the 
Tayloes,  whose  mansion  stood  in  a  stately  grove  with  well- 
kept  lawns,  at  a  spot  where  engine-shops  and  the  houses 
of  railroad  men  are  built  at  present. 

The  thing  which  impressed  me  most,  upon  the  visit  to 
these  good  folk,  was  the  absence  of  all  the  males  of  fight- 
ing age.  The  Tayloes  of  Roanoke  were  prominent  people, 
and  in  all  public  affairs  had  figured  conspicuously  as 
representatives  of  their  county  and  their  section.  The 
only  members  of  the  family  at  home  to  welcome  the  stran- 
ger within  their  gates  were  the  aged,  white-haired  head 
of  the  house  and  four  or  five  daughters  and  daughters- 
in-law,  clad  in  mourning.  We  were  received  with  fault- 
less courtesy,  and  entertained  with  exquisite  hospitality. 

Tremulously  and  anxiously  the  fine  old  gentleman,  with 
his  female  brood  about  him,  asked  for  the  latest  news 
from  the  front.     Eagerly  they  plied  us  with  new  questions 


AMONG   THE   MOUNTAINS  221 

concerning  the  progress  and  prospects  of  the  struggle. 
Insatiable  and  unabated  seemed  their  desire  to  talk  on 
and  on  concerning  that  bloody  phalanx  aligned  about 
Richmond,  whence  we  came. 

And  well  might  their  deepest  interest  be  centred  there, 
for  every  arms-bearing  Tayloe  —  son,  brother,  husband 
—  was  in  the  forefront  of  the  fight,  save  one.  He  had 
already  fallen ;  his  portrait  hung  in  the  spacious  drawing- 
room  beside  the  others.  His  name  was  spoken  and 
spoken  again  with  gentle  tears,  and  with  that  reverence 
which  the  devout  render  to  the  Christian  martyr. 

In  this  spacious,  peace-embowered  home,  nestled  close 
to  the  river,  under  the  looming  Mill  Mountain,  whose 
afternoon  shadows  were  already  creeping  across  the  lawn 
of  oaks  and  elms,  and  maples  and  hickories,  with  the 
summer  breezes  stealing  around  its  white  pillars  and 
through  its  wide  hallways  and  swaying  its  muslin  cur- 
tains, with  naught  but  gently  murmured  conversation  to 
break  the  delicious  quietude,  how  far  away  seemed  the 
war!  how  startling  was  the  contrast  with  the  seething 
cauldron  of  strife  in  which  their  strong  men  struggled 
about  Richmond ! 

Yet  which  were  suffering  the  most  ?  Who  shall  mea- 
sure the  agony  which  racked  those  hearts,  outwardly  so 
placid,  during  the  long  years  they  waited  while  the  strife 
went  on  ? 

Who  can  picture  the  desolating  sorrow  which  engulfed 
them  as,  one  by  one,  the  strong  arms  on  which  that  house- 
hold depended  fell  helpless,  and  the  news  came  home 
that  the  brave  hearts  for  whose  safety  they  prayed  had 
ceased  to  beat !  for  it  was  so.  The  war  filled  grave  after 
grave  in  the  graveyard  of  the  Tayloe  family,  until,  when 
it  ended,  the  male  line  was  almost  extinct. 

Our  visit  to  these  good  folk  was  charming,  and  from 


222  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

time  to  time,  when  wearied  of  our  mountain  isolation,  we 
would  return  to  their  lovely  valley  to  mingle  anew  with 
such  congenial  friends. 

To  the  east  and  south  of  them  was  the  Blue  Ridge, 
and  beyond  it  our  home.  From  the  railroad  station  the 
stage  road  ran  for  a  mile  or  two  through  the  valley, 
then  crossed  the  Roanoke  River  by  a  ford  at  the  base 
of  the  mountains,  then  plunged  into  the  rugged  range. 
Winding  up  hill  and  down  vale  it  went  on,  through  pass 
and  gorge  and  over  tumbling  mountain-stream,  until  it 
emerged  into  the  rough  foot-hill  country  east  of  the  Blue 
Ridge,  in  which  was  our  new  home. 

Twenty-eight  miles  of  travel  over  such  a  route  seems 
much  more  than  the  measured  distance,  and  carried  us 
indeed  into  a  new  class  of  population,  as  distinct  from 
that  which  we  left  behind  as  if  an  ocean  instead  of 
a  mountain  range  had  separated  the  two  communities. 
Soon  the  broad  pastures  and  fields  of  grain  had  disap- 
peared. In  their  place  were  rough,  hillside  lots,  with 
patches  of  buckwheat  or  tobacco.  Instead  of  the  stately 
brick  houses  standing  in  groves  on  handsome  knolls,  all 
that  we  saw  of  human  habitations  were  log-houses  far 
apart  upon  the  mountain  sides,  or  in  the  hollows  far 
below  us.  No  longer  were  pastures  visible,  with  well-bred 
cattle  standing  in  pooly  places,  shaded  by  sugar  maples, 
bathing  their  flanks  at  noontide.  No  more  did  we  meet 
smart  equipages  drawn  by  blooded  horses.  No  more  the 
happy  darkey  greeted  us  with  smiles. 

Up,  up,  up,  —  until  the  mountain  side  fell  far  below 
our  track ;  down,  down,  down,  —  until  our  wheels  ground 
into,  and  our  horses  scattered  about  their  feet,  the  broken 
slate  of  a  roaring  stream.  Now,  following  the  sycamores 
along  its  banks,  with  here  a  patch  of  arable  land  and  its 
mountain  cabin,  whence  a  woman  smoking  a  pipe,  and 


AMONG  THE   MOUNTAINS  223 

innumerable  tow-headed  children  hanging  about  her 
skirts,  eyed  us  silently  ;  and  there  another  roadside  cabin, 
with  hollyhocks  and  sunflowers  and  bee-hives  in  the  yard, 
the  sound  of  a  spinning-wheel  from  within,  a  sleeping  cat 
in  the  window,  and  a  cur  dog  on  the  doorstep  ;  here  a 
carry-log,  with  patient  team  drawn  aside  upon  the  narrow 
road  to  let  us  pass,  the  strapping  teamster  in  his  shirt- 
sleeves, with  trousers  stuck  into  his  cowhide  boots,  leaning 
against  his  load  so  intent  in  scrutiny  of  us  that  he  barely 
noticed  our  salutation  ;  here  a  bearded  man,  clad  in  home- 
spun and  a  broad  slouched  hat,  riding  leisurely  along  on 
his  broad-backed,  quiet  horse,  carrying  the  inevitable 
saddle-bags  of  the  mountaineer  ;  here  a  woman  on  horse- 
back, with  long  sunbonnet,  and  coarse,  cotton  riding-skirt, 
and  bag  slung  at  the  saddle-bow,  and  small  boy,  with 
dangling  bare  feet,  riding  behind  her  ;  here  a  spout-spring 
by  the  roadside,  where  the  living  water  of  the  mountain 
side  leaped  joyously  from  a  hollow  gum-tree  log  grown 
green  in  service ;  now  mounting  upward  again  until  all 
that  is  visible  is  the  winding  road,  with  the  blue  sky 
above  it,  and  the  massed  tree-tops  below,  and  the  curling 
smoke  of  some  mountain  distillery,  with  nothing  to  break 
the  stillness  but  the  heavy  hammering  of  the  log-cock 
upon  some  dead  limb,  or  the  drumming  of  the  ruffed 
grouse  far  away.  So,  on  and  on  we  toiled,  until  we 
reached  the  open  country  beyond  the  mountains,  and  late 
in  the  evening  our  steaming  horses  drew  up  at  our  new 
home,  which  was  strange  and  different  from  any  we  had 
fever  had  before. 

Our  house  was  large,  among  the  newest  and  most 
modern  in  the  village,  prettily  located  on  the  outskirts, 
pn  the  highest  knoll  in  the  place,  and  commanded  a  fine 
view  of  the  little  valley  and  Bald  Knob,  and  the  moun- 
tains  through    which    we   came.     The   stage    road,  after 


224  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

passing  our  house,  entered  the  main  street  of  the  village, 
which  was  a  rocky  lane  upon  a  sharp  decline,  with  stores 
and  houses  scattered  on  either  side,  terminating  at  an 
inclosure  where  stood  the  court  house,  clerk's  office,  and 
county  jail.  Halfway  down  this  street  was  the  tavern, 
an  antiquated  structure,  with  a  porch  extending  along  its 
entire  front,  its  brick  pillars  supporting  a  second  story 
overhanging  the  porch.  This  porch,  which  was  almost 
on  a  level  with  the  street,  was  provided  with  an  ample 
supply  of  benches  and  cane-bottom  chairs.  At  one  end 
of  it,  suspended  in  a  frame,  was  the  tavern  bell,  whose 
almost  continual  clang  was  signal  for  grooms  to  take  or 
fetch  horses,  or  summons  to  meals. 

The  tavern  porch  was  the  rallying-point  of  the  town  : 
hither  all  news  came  ;  here  all  news  was  discussed ;  hence 
all  news  was  disseminated.  From  this  spot  the  daily  stage 
departed  in  the  morning.  Here  villagers  and  country 
folk  assembled  in  the  day  and  waited  in  the  evening  ; 
and  to  this  spot  came  the  stage  in  the  evening,  bearing 
the  mail,  the  war  news,  and  such  citizens  as  had  been 
absent,  visitors  who  drifted  in,  or  soldiers  returning  sick, 
wounded,  or  on  furlough. 

Supreme  interest  centred  ever  about  the  arrival  or 
departure  of  the  stage.  In  the  foggy  morning  it  ap- 
peared with  its  strong  four-in-hand  team,  and  took  its 
place  majestically  in  front  of  the  old  tavern.  The  porters 
rocked  it  as  they  dumped  the  baggage  into  the  boot ; 
the  red-faced  driver  came  forth  from  the  breakfast-room 
with  great  self-importance.  With  his  broad  palm  he 
wiped  away  the  greasy  remnants  of  his  meal,  lit  his  brier- 
root  pipe,  drew  on  his  buckskin  gloves,  settled  his  slouched 
hat  over  his  eyes,  clambered  to  his  seat  upon  the  box, 
gathered  his  reins  and  whip,  and  cast  a  glance  towards  the 
post-office   across  the    way ;    an  aged  man   and  a  meek- 


AMONG  THE  MOUNTAINS  225 

eyed  woman  in  simple  garb  slipped  quietly  into  the  rear 
seats,  going  perhaps  on  some  sad  mission  under  summons 
to  a  far-off  hospital  at  the  front ;  a  dainty  miss,  with  bon- 
net-box and  bunch  of  flowers,  kissed  papa  and  mamma 
and  took  her  place  within,  full  of  joyous  anticipation, 
doubtless,  for  even  in  war  times  girls  love  to  visit  each 
other ;  a  fat  commissary,  returning  from  his  search  in 
the  back  country  for  supplies,  came  forth,  reeking  with 
rum  and  tobacco,  and  swung  up  awkwardly  to  the  seat 
beside  the  driver.  Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry,  the  new 
recruits  bound  for  the  front,  proud  in  their  new  and 
misfit  uniforms,  seized  mother,  wife,  sister,  or  sweetheart 
in  their  arms,  kissed  them,  bade  them  have  no  fear,  and 
scrambled  lightly  to  the  top.  The  lame  and  tardy  post- 
master hobbled  forth  at  last,  and  threw  his  mail-pouch  up 
to  the  dashboard.  The  coachman  gave  his  warning  cry 
of  "All  aboard,"  the  hostlers  drew  off  the  blankets,  the 
long  whip  cracked  its  merry  signal ;  with  discord  in  each 
footfall  at  the  start  and  concord  as  they  caught  the  step, 
the  horses  pulled  away  ;  and  the  lumbering  stage  went 
grinding  up  the  stony  street,  its  horn  singing  its  morning 
carol  to  those  who  were  awake.  As  they  disappeared 
over  the  hill-top,  a  last  merry  cry  of  parting  came  back 
from  the  bright  boys  on  the  stage-top,  and  the  last  they 
saw  of  home  was  the  waving  tokens  of  love  from  those 
they  left  behind. 

As  the  day  advanced,  the  tavern  porch  again  took  on 
an  air  of  life. 

Everybody  traveled  upon  horseback.  By  midday,  the 
country  folk  began  to  stream  in.  Up  and  down  the  street 
a  gradually  increasing  line  of  saddle-horses  were  "  hitched." 
Women,  old  and  young,  arrived,  —  all  of  conventional 
dress,  and  with  horses  singularly  alike.  Their  bonnets 
were  the  long-slatted  poke-bonnet ;  their  riding-skirts,  of 


226  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

coarse  cotton.  Alighting  at  the  horse-blocks,  they  untied 
and  slipped  off  the  skirts  and  tied  them  to  their  saddle- 
bows, revealing  their  plain  homespun  dress.  Their  horses 
were  broad-backed,  short  on  the  leg,  carried  their  heads 
on  a  level  with  their  shoulders,  and  moved  with  noses 
advanced  like  camels.  They  had  no  gaits  but  a  swift 
walk,  a  gentle  fox-trot,  or  a  slow,  ambling  pace.  When 
they  had  "  hitched  the  critturs,"  these  women  went  pok- 
ing about  the  stores,  or  the  tavern  kitchen,  or  the  private 
houses,  with  chickens  or  butter,  or  other  farmyard  pro- 
duce, seldom  speaking  further  than  asking  one  to  buy ; 
and  when  their  sales  were  effected  and  little  purchases 
made,  they  went  away  as  silently  as  they  had  come. 

The  men  came  by  themselves.  Their  principal  occupa- 
tion seemed  to  be  horse-trading.  At  times,  the  neighbor- 
ing stables,  and  even  the  street  itself,  were  filled  with  men 
leading  their  animals  about,  and  engaged  in  the  liveliest 
of  horse-trading.  A  considerable  proportion  of  the  popu- 
lation belonged  to  a  religious  sect  known  as  Dunkards. 
In  appearance,  they  were  solemn  and  ascetic.  The  men 
wore  long,  flowing  beards,  and  their  homespun  dress  was 
of  formal  cut.  Their  doctrinal  tenets  were  opposed  to 
slavery  and  to  war.  Whenever  political  or  military  dis- 
cussions arose,  they  promptly  withdrew.  They  were  very 
strict  temperance  men,  and  decent,  orderly,  law-abiding 
citizens,  but  horse-traders  !  It  must  have  been  a  part  of 
their  religious  faith.  A  Dunkard  was  never  so  happy  as 
when  he  was  horse-trading. 

There  were  others,  too,  to  whom  temperance  was  not 
so  sacred  as  to  the  Dunkards.  By  three  or  four  o'clock, 
the  tavern  bar  was  liberally  patronized.  The  recruiting- 
office  had  its  full  quota  of  young  fellows  inquiring  about 
the  terms  of  enlistment.  The  tavern  porch  was  filled 
with  people  discussing  war  news,  and  the  quartermaster 


AMONG  THE   MOUNTAINS  227 

down  the  street  had  more  horses  offered  to  him  than  he 
was  authorized  to  buy. 

At  such  times,  a  favorite  entertainment  was  to  draw 
General  Early  out  upon  his  views  of  men  and  events,  for 
the  edification  of  the  tavern-porch  assemblage. 

He  was  a  resident  of  Franklin,  and  at  that  time  sojourn- 
ing at  the  tavern.  He  had  been  severely  wounded  in  the 
battle  of  Williamsburg  in  May,  1862,  and  was  now  quite 
convalescent,  but  still  on  sick  leave.  He  was  a  singular 
being. 

Franklin  County  had  been  strongly  opposed  to  seces- 
sion. Jubal  A.  Early  was  a  pronounced  Union  man,  and 
was  elected  from  his  county  as  her  representative  to  the 
Secession  Convention.  In  that  body  he  had  opposed  and 
denounced  secession  until  the  ordinance  was  passed.  As 
soon  as  the  State  seceded,  he  declared  that  his  State  was 
entitled  to  his  services,  and  tendered  them.  He  was  a 
man  of  good  family,  a  graduate  of  the  West  Point  Mili- 
tary Academy,  and  possessed  unsurpassed  personal  cour- 
age. In  1862,  he  was  a  brigadier-general,  and  had  been 
conspicuously  brave  in  the  battle  in  which  he  was  wounded. 
His  subsequent  career  in  higher  commands  was  disastrous. 
After  the  war,  he  became  notorious  as  the  most  implaca- 
ble and  "  unreconstructed  "  of  all  the  Confederate  gen- 
erals. He  was  a  man  deeply  attached  to  a  small  circle  of 
friends,  but  intensely  vindictive  and  abusive  of  those  he 
disliked. 

At  the  time  of  which  I  write,  he  was  the  hero  of  Frank- 
lin County,  and,  although  he  professed  to  despise  popular- 
ity and  to  be  defiant  of  public  opinion,  it  was  plain  that 
he  enjoyed  his  military  distinction.  It  had  done  much  to 
soften  old-time  asperities,  and  blot  out  from  the  memory 
of  his  neighbors  certain  facts  in  his  private  life  which  had, 
prior  to  the  war,  alienated  from  him  many  of  his  own 


228  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

class.  In  fact,  I  doubt  not  he  was  a  happier  man  then 
than  he  had  been  for  many  a  year  before,  or  was  at  a  later 
period,  when  he  became  more  or  less  a  social  and  political 
Ishmaelite. 

He  was  eccentric  in  many  ways,  —  eccentric  in  appear- 
ance, in  voice,  in  manner  of  speech.  Although  he  was  not 
an  old  man,  his  shoulders  were  so  stooped  and  rounded 
that  he  brought  his  countenance  to  a  vertical  position 
with  difficulty.  He  wore  a  long,  thin,  straggling  beard. 
His  eyes  were  very  small,  dark,  deep-set,  and  glittering, 
and  his  nose  aquiline.  His  step  was  slow,  shuffling,  and 
almost  irresolute.  I  never  saw  a  man  who  looked  less 
like  a  soldier.  His  voice  was  a  piping  treble,  and  he 
talked  with  a  long-drawn  whine  or  drawl.  His  opinions 
were  expressed  unreservedly,  and  he  was  most  emphatic 
and  denunciatory,  and  startlingly  profane. 

His  likes  and  dislikes  he  announced  without  hesitation, 
and,  as  he  was  filled  with  strong  and  bitter  opinions,  his 
conversation  was  always  racy  and  pungent.  His  views 
were  not  always  correct,  or  just,  or  broad  ;  but  his  wit  was 
quick,  his  satire  biting,  his  expressions  were  vigorous,  and 
he  was  interestingly  lurid  and  picturesque. 

With  his  admiring  throng  about  him  on  the  tavern 
porch,  on  summer  evenings  in  1862,  General  Early,  in 
my  opinion,  said  things  about  his  superiors,  the  Confed- 
erate leaders,  civic  and  military,  and  their  conduct  of 
affairs,  sufficient  to  have  convicted  him  a  hundred  times 
over  before  any  court-martial.  But  his  criticisms  never 
extended  to  General  Robert  E.  Lee.  For  Lee  he  seemed 
to  have  a  regard  and  esteem  and  high  opinion  felt  by  him 
for  no  one  else.  Although  General  Lee  had  but  recently 
been  called  to  the  command  of  the  army,  he  predicted  his 
great  future  with  unerring  judgment. 

The  arrival  of  the  stage  not  infrequently  interrupted 


AMONG  THE   MOUNTAINS  229 

General  Early's  vigorous  lectures.  For  half  an  hour  or 
more  before  the  event,  the  expectant  throng  would  in- 
crease, and,  as  those  who  "  brace "  themselves  for  the 
crisis  were  there,  as  everywhere  else,  conversation  grew 
louder  and  agitation  greater  as  the  time  approached. 
Then  the  stage  would  heave  in  sight  in  the  gloaming,  and 
come  rattling  down  the  rough  street,  the  horseshoes  knock- 
ing fire  from  the  flints.  Before  the  smoking  and  jaded 
beasts  had  fairly  stopped,  loud  inquiries  would  be  made 
on  all  hands,  of  driver  and  passengers,  for  war  news. 
Somebody  would  throw  down  the  latest  newspaper ;  some- 
body would  mount  a  chair  and  read  aloud ;  and,  just  as 
the  news  was  encouraging  or  depressing,  there  would  be 
cheering  or  silence.  Then  would  come  the  rush  for  the 
mail  to  the  post-office  across  the  way. 

The  passengers,  also,  were  a  source  of  engrossing  inter- 
est. There  was  young  So-and-so,  with  his  empty  sleeve. 
A  year  ago  he  had  left  the  place,  and  passed  safely 
through  all  the  earlier  battles  ;  but  at  Malvern  Hill  a 
grapeshot  mutilated  his  left  arm.  Amputation  followed, 
and  now,  after  a  long  time  in  hospital,  here  he  was,  home 
again,  pale  and  bleached,  with  an  honorable  discharge  in 
his  pocket,  and  maimed  for  life.  And  there,  collapsed 
upon  the  rear  seat,  more  dead  than  alive,  too  weak  to 
move  save  with  the  assistance  of  friends,  was  a  poor,  wan 
fellow,  whom  nobody  knew  at  first.  How  pitiful  he 
seemed,  as  they  helped  him  forth,  his  eyes  sunken  yet 
restless,  his  weak  arms  clinging  about  their  necks,  his 
limbs  scai'ce  able  to  support  his  weight,  his  frame  racked 
by  paroxysms  of  violent  coughing !  "  Who  is  it  ?  "  passed 
from  mouth  to  mouth.  "  Good  God  !  "  exclaimed  some 
one  at  the  whispered  reply,  "  it  can't  be  !  That  is  not 
Jimmie  Thomson.  What !  Not  old  man  Hugh  Thom- 
son's son,  down  on  Pig  River  ?     Why,  man  alive,  I  knew 


230  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

the  boy  well.  He  was  one  of  the  likeliest  boys  in  this 
whole  county.  Surely,  that  ar  skeleton  can't  be  him !  " 
But  it  was.  The  exposure  of  camp  life  had  done  for  poor 
Jimmie  what  bullets  had  failed  to  do. 

There,  perched  gayly  in  air,  and  tumbling  down  upon 
the  heads  of  the  bystanders  with  joyous  greeting,  was  the 
sauciest,  healthiest  youngster  in  the  village,  come  home 
on  his  first  furlough  in  a  twelvemonth,  wearing  on  his 
collar  the  bars  of  a  lieutenant  (conferred  for  gallantry  at 
Seven  Pines),  in  place  of  the  corporal's  chevrons  on  his 
sleeve  when  he  marched  away.  Camp  life  had  made  no 
inroads  on  his  health.  The  sun  and  rain  had  only  given 
him  a  healthy  bronze.  His  digestion  would  have  assimi- 
lated paving-stones.  The  bullets  had  gone  wide  of  him. 
And  his  little  world,  the  dearest  on  earth  to  him,  —  the 
little  world  which  had  laughed  and  cried  over  the  stories 
of  his  capers  and  his  courage  in  the  field,  —  stood  there 
surprised  and  delighted,  with  smiling  faces  and  open  arms, 
to  welcome  him  home,  their  own  village  boy,  their  saucy, 
gallant  fighting-chap,  their  hero,  —  home  again,  if  only 
for  a  week ! 

Each  day  opened  and  passed  and  closed,  with  its  excite- 
ments. It  was  all  very  narrow  and  primitive,  the  out- 
of-the-way  world  of  the  obscure  village  in  an  unknown 
region.  Yet  in  it  were  the  same  old  hopes  and  fears  and 
joys  and  tears,  hearteases  and  heartaches,  loves  and  hates, 
and  all  the  moods  and  tenses  of  human  nature,  to  be  found 
in  the  most  populous  and  cosmopolitan  hives  of  humanity. 

I  was  now  nearly  sixteen.  Many  youths  of  my  age 
were  in  the  army.  I  had  written  more  than  once  for  my 
father's  consent  to  enlist,  but  received  stern  denials.  The 
war  talk  at  the  old  tavern,  the  stories  of  camps  and  fights 
and  military  glory,  the  daily  enlistments,  the  desire  to 
appear  a  man  in  the  eyes  of  certain  girls,  were  all  cooper- 


AMONG    THE   MOUNTAINS  231 

ating  to  inflame  my  desire  to  be  a  soldier.  I  was  growing 
mannish  and  rebellious.  My  brother  saw  it  all,  and  heard 
me  threaten  to  run  away,  and  wrote  father  seriously, 
advising  him  that  I  was  getting  beyond  his  control,  and 
urging  him  to  send  me  to  the  Virginia  Military  Institute, 
where  I  would  be  under  restraint,  and  receive  instruction, 
instead  of  growing  up  in  ignorance  and  idleness. 

It  was  soon  settled.  September  1,  1862,  I  left  Rocky 
Mount,  took  the  train  at  Big  Lick,  went  to  the  neighbor- 
ing station  of  Bonsacks,  and  there  perched  myself  upon 
the  stage-top,  booked  for  Lexington.  It  was  a  long  jour- 
ney, occupying  sixteen  hours.  We  started  at  six  p.  M., 
and,  riding  continuously,  reached  Lexington  at  ten  o'clock 
the  following  morning.  It  was  a  glorious  ride  in  brilliant 
autumn  weather,  with  moonlight.  We  passed  through 
Fincastle  and  Buchanan,  and  over  the  Natural  Bridge. 

As  we  approached  Lexington,  and  I  caught  sight  of 
the  Virginia  Military  Institute  and  its  beautiful  parade 
grounds,  and  professors'  houses  and  other  buildings,  my 
mind  was  filled  with  thoughts  of  glorious  military  life, 
and  the  commission  in  the  army  which  awaited  me  when 
I  graduated,  for  I  was  now  a  cadet  in  the  West  Point  of 
the  Confederacy. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

PRESBYTERIAN    LEXINGTON 

Great  differences  in  soil,  climate,  and  scenery  exist 
between  the  grand  divisions  into  which  Virginia  is  cut  up 
geographically.  But  they  are  not  more  striking  than  the 
diversity  of  the  populations,  one  from  the  other,  in  these 
several  sections,  springing  from  differences  in  the  time 
and  the  manner  in  which,  and  the  people  by  whom,  her 
several  early  settlements  were  made. 

Two  or  three  centuries  of  common  government  would 
ordinarily  seem  sufficient  to  produce  a  homogeneous  popu- 
lation in  a  State.  While  this  result  has  been  attained  in 
Virginia  in  essentials,  it  is  nevertheless  surprising  to  ob- 
serve in  each  section  local  peculiarities,  types,  and  char- 
acteristics plainly  traceable  to  its  earliest  settlement. 

We  were  first  introduced  to  the  lower  Tidewater  section, 
where  the  soil  is  sandy,  the  climate  balmy,  the  landscape 
flat,  viewless,  save  as  it  is  redeemed  from  monotony  by 
the  boundless,  ever-changing  grandeur  of  old  Ocean.  The 
people,  while  of  her  oldest  strains,  are  simple  in  their 
mode  of  living,  and  admit  neither  lineage  nor  wealth  as 
basis  for  any  caste  or  class  distinction.  Then  we  turned 
to  the  region  of  the  upper  and  lower  James,  with  Rich- 
mond as  its  centre,  settled  later  than  Tidewater  by  the 
so-called  Cavalier  immigration  of  1649-60.  There,  of  old, 
social  relations  were  akin  to  those  of  Rome's  patricians 
and  plebeians,  patrons  and  clients.  Not  alone  was  the 
haughty  descendant  of  Charles  I.  owner  of  a  plantation 


PRESBYTERIAN   LEXINGTON  233 

and  of  slaves,  —  he  was  more :  the  poor  whites  and  the 
shopkeepers  of  country  and  town  alike,  consciously  or 
unconsciously,  willingly  or  unwillingly,  rendered  him 
homage  as  if  he  were  their  superior.  And  he,  while  often 
proclaiming  principles  of  social  equality,  seldom  prac- 
ticed them,  and  quietly  accepted,  as  his  legitimate  due, 
the  preeminence  granted  him  by  his  humbler  neighbors. 

Then,  with  a  mere  glimpse  of  the  Roanoke  region,  we 
passed  into  the  rocky  soil,  the  wild  and  mountainous 
landscape,  and  the  rough,  new,  and  nondescript  popula- 
tion which,  from  one  direction  and  another,  has  collected 
upon  and  taken  possession  of  the  eastern  slope  of  the 
Blue  Ridge  range.  Here,  again,  we  found  a  democracy 
full  of  independence  and  courage,  but  in  all  things  of 
education  and  refinement,  far  inferior  to  that  in  Tide- 
water. 

Now,  at  Lexington,  we  are  in  the  heart  of  the  valley 
lying  between  the  Blue  Ridge  and  Alleghany  ranges.  It 
is  a  region  with  a  different  soil,  a  different  climate,  differ- 
ent scenery,  and  a  population  more  distinctly  sui  generis 
than  any  yet  described.  The  soil  is  based  upon  blue 
limestone.  It  is  where  the  grasses  grow.  The  lands  lie 
tumbled  into  knobby  hills  and  rolling  fields,  with  here  and 
there  narrow  fertile  valleys  traversed  by  limpid  streams, 
whose  banks  are  cedar-clad  bluffs  of  limestone  shale. 
The  great  valley  is  moi*e  broken  here,  less  pastoral,  and 
not  so  charming  as  in  its  lower  section  to  the  north,  where 
it  widens,  and  is  watered  by  the  Shenandoah ;  but  this  is 
the  bolder  landscape,  with  a  rugged  beauty  peculiar  to 
itself.  The  mountain  framing  of  the  pictuie  is  the  same  ; 
but  the  land  is  higher,  for,  as  the  cloud-capped  peaks  of 
the  Blue  Ridge  and  Alleghany  ranges  draw  nearer  to 
each  other,  the  vale  between  them  is  nearer  to  their  own 
altitude.     We  are  in  Rockbrid<~        >unty,  so  called  be- 


234  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

cause  within  its  limits  is  the  superb  natural  arch  of  lime- 
stone known  the  world  over  as  the  Natural  Bridge. 

Lexington,  the  county  seat  of  Rockbridge,  is  near  the 
summit  of  the  transverse  watershed  of  the  great  valley. 
Within  a  few  miles  of  the  town,  streams  rise,  some  pour- 
ing their  waters  southward  into  the  tributaries  of  the 
James,  and  others  coursing  northward,  tributary  to  the 
Shenandoah,  which  enters  the  Potomac  at  Harper's  Ferry. 
The  place  itself  is  beautiful.  Looking  east  and  south, 
the  rolling  country  falls  away  to  the  base  of  the  Blue 
Ridge,  where  the  South  River  and  North  River  unite  and 
flow  onward  to  join  the  James,  where  their  united  waters 
turn  eastward  through  the  pass  at  Balcony  Falls.  The 
magnificent  Blue  Ridge  range  bounds  the  eastern  view, 
and  is  last  seen  to  southward,  where  the  twin  breasts  of 
the  Peaks  of  Otter  rear  themselves  against  the  distant 
blue.  Northward,  beyond  the  wooded  bluffs  of  the  North 
River,  steep  hills  of  farming  lands  are  tilted  towards  us, 
their  sides  dotted  with  cattle,  their  summits  crowned  with 
forests.  Beyond  these,  crest  after  crest  of  the  smaller 
foothills  of  the  Alleghanies  appear.  To  the  northwest, 
looming  in  isolated  majesty,  is  the  House  Mountain,  with 
the  peak  of  the  Devil's  Backbone  behind  it,  marking  the 
route  through  historic  Goshen  Pass.  North  and  south,  as 
far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  shading  away  in  their  tints  from 
deep  emerald  to  dreamy  blue  as  they  become  more  and 
more  remote,  are  masses  of  hills.  To  the  west  and  south- 
west, now  strongly  outlined,  now  melting  into  the  last  visi- 
ble things  of  the  distance,  are  the  azure  peaks  of  the 
Alleghanies.  Such  is  the  country  about  Lexington,  where 
Virginia  has  her  Military  Institute.  It  is  a  spot  almost 
as  beautiful  as  West  Point,  and  the  school  is  second  only 
to  the  Military  Academy  in  thoroughness.  It  is  an  ideal 
spot  for  healthfulne       ~ud  the  isolation  of  youth  from  the 


PRESBYTERIAN   LEXINGTON  235 

temptations  and  distracting  influences  of  crowded  com- 
munities. The  boy  who  finds  allurement  to  idleness  and 
vice  in  that  town  would  discover  it  anywhere. 

It  is  a  community  of  Scotch-Irish  Presbyterians.  For 
more  than  a  hundred  years  after  the  settlement  of  James- 
town, and  for  over  fifty  years  after  Richmond  was  an 
incorporated  city,  this  valley  remained  unviewed  by  the 
eye  of  any  white  man. 

As  early  as  1608,  Newport,  on  his  second  visit  to  the 
Virginia  colony,  brought  with  him  a  boat  built  in  sec- 
tions, to  be  transported  by  him  under  orders  to  find  the 
South  Sea  beyond  the  mountains.  The  extent  to  which 
he  performed  that  order  was  that  he  marched  to  the  Mona- 
con  country,  about  twenty  miles  west  of  Richmond,  and 
his  company  returned  footsore  to  Jamestown. 

One  hundred  and  two  years  later  (1710),  Governor 
Spotswood  wrote  to  the  Council  of  Trade  in  London  that  a 
party  of  adventurers  had  found  the  mountains  "  not  above 
a  hundred  miles  from  our  upper  settlements,  and  went  up 
to  the  top  of  the  highest  mountains  with  their  horses," 
and  looked  over  into  the  valley.  This  is  supposed  to  have 
been  near  Balcony  Falls.  It  was  not  until  1716  that  the 
first  passage  of  the  Blue  Ridge  was  effected.  Then  Gov- 
ernor Spotswood  and  his  "  Knights  of  the  Golden  Horse- 
shoe "  entered  the  lower  or  Shenandoah  valley  by  way  of 
Swift  Run  Gap,  and  took  possession  in  the  name  of  George 
the  First.  Governor  Spotswood's  expedition  resulted  in 
nothing  important.  The  only  diary  of  its  performance 
extant  is  principally  devoted  to  description  of  the  liquors 
which  the  party  carried  with  it,  whereof  eleven  sorts  are 
enumerated.  A  few  adventurers  may  have  straggled  into 
the  valley  after  this,  but  it  was  not  until  1732-36  that  it 
was  settled  by  any  considerable  population. 

Shortly  prior  to  1732,  an  immense  number  of  Scotch- 


236  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

Irish  and  Germans  poured  into  Pennsylvania  and  the  Jer- 
seys. Within  thirty  years,  the  population  of  Pennsylvania 
increased  from  about  thirty  thousand  to  two  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand.  The  Scotsmen,  who,  for  religious  liberty, 
had  originally  sought  the  north  of  Ireland,  were  the  peo- 
ple who  saved  Ireland  to  William  and  Mary  from  Cath- 
olic James.  Their  loyalty  was  rewarded  by  new  persecu- 
tions for  non-conformity,  until  they  resolved  to  seek  asylum 
in  America.  So,  also,  about  the  same  time  came  to  Amer- 
ica a  great  migration  of  German  Lutherans,  who  were 
induced  to  settle  in  Pennsylvania.  The  Scotsmen  occupied 
the  regions  about  Princeton,  New  Jersey,  Eastou,  Car- 
lisle, and  Washington.  The  Germans  settled  about  York, 
Lancaster,  Columbia,  and  Harrisburg.  Governor  Logan, 
himself  a  Scotch-Irishman,  enforced  some  laws  about  1730 
which  were  so  offensive  to  the  Presbyterians  and  Lutherans 
that  great  numbers  of  them  left  the  Pennsylvania  colony, 
crossed  the  Potomac  west  of  the  Blue  Ridge,  in  the  vicin- 
ity of  Harper's  Ferry,  entered  Virginia,  and  settled  the 
Blue  Ridge  valley. 

As  if  by  agreement,  the  two  bands  separated.  The 
lethargic  Germans,  as  soon  as  they  escaped  the  Pennsyl- 
vania jurisdiction,  occupied  the  lower  valley  from  Har- 
per's Ferry  to  Harrisonburg.  The  aggressive  Scotch- 
Irish  pressed  on  to  the  upper  valley,  then  called  West 
Augusta,  now  divided  into  the  counties  of  Augusta, 
Rockbridge,  Botetourt,  Roanoke,  and  Montgomery.  From 
then  until  now,  the  two  races  have  retained  possession  of 
and  dominated  their  respective  settlements. 

And  a  very  striking  race  of  men  are  these  Scotch-Irish, 
so  called,  yet  with  nothing  Irish  about  them  save  that 
for  a  little  while  they  tarried  in  Ireland.  Hated  by  the 
Irish  because  they  were  Protestants,  persecuted  by  the 
English  because  they  were  Presbyterians,  they  in  turn 


PRESBYTERIAN   LEXINGTON  237 

cordially  detested  both,  and,  in  our  Revolutionary  strug- 
gles, were  among  the  eaidiest  and  most  intense  rebels 
against  the  king.  For  liberty,  as  they  conceived  it, 
whether  it  was  liberty  of  conscience  or  liberty  of  the 
person,  the  Scotch-Irishmen  and  their  descendants  have 
never  hesitated  to  sacrifice  comfort,  fortune,  or  life. 
Their  mountain  origin  has  always  manifested  itself  by 
the  places  they  have  chosen  in  their  migrations.  The 
few  who  went  to  the  Puritan  settlements  of  New  England 
soon  moved  from  among  them  and  sought  the  inhospit- 
able highlands  of  New  Hampshire,  where  they  bestowed 
on  their  new  settlement  the  name  of  Londonderry.  The 
little  band  who  found  asylum  among  the  Dutch  of  New 
York  pressed  onward  from  uncongenial  associates  to  the 
mountainous  frontier,  and  named  the  county  where  they 
settled  Ulster,  in  memory  of  their  Irish  home.  Those 
who  wearied  of  Pennsylvania  and  went  to  Virginia 
avoided  the  light  society  of  the  Cavaliers  in  Tidewater 
and  Piedmont,  preferring  the  mountain  wilds  of  West 
Augusta. 

Wherever  they  appeared,  they  seemed  to  be  seeking  for 
some  secluded  spot,  where,  undisturbed  by  any  other  sect, 
they  might  enjoy  liberty  unrestrained,  and  worship  God 
after  their  own  fashion. 

And  great  have  they  been  as  pioneers.  They  popu- 
lated western  New  England,  northern  New  York,  west- 
ern Pennsylvania,  and  the  Virginia  valley.  Then  they 
pressed  onward  through  western  North  Carolina,  even  to 
northern  South  Carolina.  Then  they  spread  westward 
through  Cumberland  Gap  to  the  settlement  of  Kentucky. 
In  later  days,  their  Lewis  and  their  Clarke  were  the 
explorers  of  the  Northwest ;  another  Lewis  was  the  first 
to  view  Pike's  Peak  ;  and  even  the  territory  of  Texas 
was  in  part  reclaimed  by  Sam  Houston,  son  of  a  Rock- 


238  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

bridge  County  Presbyterian.  The  pioneer  work  of  the 
Scotch- Irish  has  been  greater  than  that  of  all  other  races 
in  America  combined. 

Great  also  have  they  been  as  fighters.  John  Lewis, 
their  first  leader  in  the  Virginia  valley,  was  the  terror  of 
the  frontier  Indians  from  the  day  of  his  arrival.  Never 
after  his  coming  did  the  Indians  come  east  of  the  Blue 
Ridge.  Another  Scotch-Irishman,  Patrick  Henry,  uttered 
the  immortal  sentence,  "  Give  me  liberty  or  give  me 
death." 

General  Henry  Knox,  of  Revolutionary  fame,  the  only 
New  England  representative  in  Washington's  cabinet, 
was  a  Scotch-Irishman. 

It  was  the  Scotch-Irish  of  Mecklenburg,  North  Caro- 
lina, who  framed  the  first  resolutions  embodying  the  prin- 
ciples of  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  It  was  of  the 
Scotch-Irish  and  their  valley  home  that  Washington  was 
speaking  when,  in  the  darkest  hours  of  the  Revolution,  he 
declared  that,  if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst,  he  would 
retire  to  the  mountain  fastnesses  of  West  Augusta,  and 
there,  with  a  few  of  his  brave  followers  about  him,  defy 
forever  the  power  of  Great  Britain.  It  was  from  the 
same  spot  that  Stonewall  Jackson,  another  of  the  stock, 
went  forth  in  our  great  civil  war,  followed  by  his  brave 
men  of  Scotch-Irish  ancestry  recruited  here,  to  revive,  by 
his  grim  prowess  and  their  unshaken  valor,  the  memory  of 
Old  Ironsides  and  his  Presbyterians. 

And  great  have  they  been  as  disseminators  of  learning. 
They  founded  the  ancient  college  of  New  Jersey  now 
known  as  Princeton  University.  To  their  efforts  are  we 
indebted  for  the  colleges  of  La  Fayette  at  Easton  and 
Washington-Jefferson  College  at  Washington  in  Pennsyl- 
vania ;  and  Liberty  Hall  Academy,  now  called  Washing- 
ton and  Lee  University,  at  Lexington,  Virginia ;  and 
Chapel  Hill  in  North  Carolina. 


PRESBYTERIAN  LEXINGTON  239 

And  successful  politicians  and  statesmen  have  they 
been ;  for  Calhoun,  Andrew  Jackson,  Franklin  Pierce, 
James  Buchanan,  Ulysses  S.  Grant,  Chester  A.  Arthur, 
Grover  Cleveland,  Benjamin  Harrison,  and  William 
McKinley  were  all  rich  in  this  Scotch-Irish  blood. 

In  his  great  work  upon  the  Puritans,  Douglass  Camp- 
bell has  admirably  sketched  the  Scotch-Irish.  Much  has 
been  written  of  them  of  late  years  by  writers  less  distin- 
guished ;  and  just  now  Professor  John  Fiske,  under  the 
title  of  "  Old  Virginia  and  her  Neighbors,"  has  published 
a  most  interesting  account  of  the  great  Scotch-Irish  migra- 
tion and  its  influences  on  our  American  civilization. 

At  Lexington,  Virginia,  these  folk  were  and  are,  as 
their  ancestors  have  been  for  centuries,  men  of  earnest, 
thoughtful,  and  religious  natures  ;  simple  in  their  lives 
to  the  point  of  severity,  sometimes  severe  to  the  point  of 
simplicity  ;  intense  in  their  religious  fervor,  yet  strangely 
lacking,  as  it  seems  to  us,  in  that  quality  of  mercy  which 
is  the  greatest  attribute  of  religion ;  loving  and  possess- 
ing education,  yet  often  narrow-minded,  in  spite  of  thor- 
ough training ;  almost  ascetics  in  their  wants,  not  bounti- 
fully hospitable,  but  reasonably  courteous  and  considerate 
towards  strangers,  and  methodically  charitable ;  regard- 
ing revelry  and  dissipation  of  body  or  mind  as  worthy  of 
supreme  contempt ;  of  dogged  obstinacy,  pertinacity,  and 
courage  ;  dominant  forces  in  all  things  wherein  they  take 
a  part. 

I  had  heard  of  their  race,  and  heard  them  described, 
long  before  I  went  there  ;  and  now  I  was  among  them,  — 
those  old  McDowells,  and  McLaughlins,  and  McClungs, 
and  Jacksons,  and  Paxtons,  and  Rosses,  and  Grahams, 
and  Andersons,  and  Campbells,  and  Prestons,  and  Moores, 
and  Houstons,  and  Barclays,  and  Comptons,  and  all  the 
tribe  of  Presbyterians  of  the  valley.     All  they  possessed, 


240  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

and  what  they  were,  I  curiously  scrutinized  as  a  type  of 
humanity  wholly  new  to  me. 

Their  impress  was  upon  everything  in  the  place.  The 
blue  limestone  streets  looked  hard.  The  red  brick  houses, 
with  severe  stone  trimmings  and  plain  white  pillars  and 
finishings,  were  stiff  and  formal.  The  grim  portals  of 
the  Presbyterian  church  looked  cold  as  a  dog's  nose.  The 
cedar  hedges  in  the  yards,  trimmed  hard  and  close  along 
straight  brick  pathways,  were  as  unsentimental  as  mathe- 
matics. The  dress  of  the  citizens,  male  and  female,  was 
of  single-breasted  simplicity  ;  and  the  hair  of  those  pretty 
Presbyterian  girls  was  among  the  smoothest  and  the  flat- 
test things  I  ever  saw. 

Shall  I  describe  their  habitations  ?  Would  it  violate 
the  laws  of  hospitality  to  do  so  ?  I  hope  not.  We  have 
entered  a  hallway,  tinted  gray,  furnished  with  an  oaken 
hat-rack  and  straight  oak  chair  of  Gothic  features,  and 
passed  into  a  parlor.  Although  it  is  autumn,  the  polished 
floors  are  uncovered  save  by  strips  of  deep-red  carpet, 
such  as  one  sees  in  chapel  aisles.  There  is  a  fireplace, 
but  the  fires  are  unlit.  The  furniture  is  straight  up  and 
down  mahogany  covered  over  with  haircloth.  I  have 
often  wondered  what  a  Presbyterian  would  do  if  he  could 
not  secure  mahogany  haircloth  furniture  for  his  drawing- 
room.  The  room  is  dark  ;  the  red  curtains  are  half  drawn. 
Upon  the  black  marble  mantelpiece,  under  a  glass  shade, 
are  cold,  white  wax  flowers.  On  the  walls  are  solemn 
engravings  of  Oliver  Cromwell,  Stonewall  Jackson,  and 
The  Rock  of  Ages.  A  melodeon,  with  church  music, 
stands  in  the  corner.  If,  perchance,  it  be  a  pianoforte, 
it  seems  like  a  profanation.  There  is  also  a  Gothic  table, 
on  top  of  which  is  the  family  Bible,  beside  it  a  candle- 
stick, Jay's  "  Morning  Exercises,"  and  the  "  Life  of 
Hannah  More."     Drawn  near  to  these  is  a  long-armed, 


PRESBYTERIAN  LEXINGTON  241 

low  easy-chair.  Facing  the  fireplace  are  two  rocking- 
chairs,  and  six  others,  all  in  haircloth,  stand  stiff  as  horse- 
guards'  sentries  about  the  walls. 

If  your  call  is  timed  in  the  evening,  you  will  learn  the 
uses  to  which  these  articles  are  put,  for,  as  nine  o'clock 
approaches,  the  sweet  little  Presbyterian  girl  you  are  vis- 
iting will  begin  to  fidget ;  and  when  the  hour  strikes,  the 
family  will  file  into  the  room  with  military  silence  and 
precision.  Before  you  know  it,  the  head  of  the  house  will 
occupy  that  chair  by  the  table,  and  open  that  Bible,  and 
give  you  the  benefit  of  at  least  twenty  minutes  of  Chris- 
tian comfort.  Then,  if  you  have  not  the  good  sense  to 
leave,  he  will  proceed  to  fasten  the  window-blinds. 

If  your  visit  is  in  the  daytime,  other  things  will  sug- 
gest themselves  to  your  mind.  For  example,  you  will 
wonder  what  is  the  family  dinner-hour.  If  you  are  so 
fortunate  as  to  receive  a  formal  invitation  in  advance,  you 
will  not  only  learn,  but  you  will  have  a  bountiful  and  well- 
cooked  meal,  —  not,  perhaps,  an  Episcopalian  epicurean 
feast,  but  bountiful  and  nutritious  food.  If,  however, 
your  notion  was  to  drop  in  unexpectedly,  and  take  an  in- 
formal family  dinner,  let  me  beg  you  to  give  it  up.  You 
may  go  a  hundred  times,  and  the  sleek-headed  girl  in  pop- 
lin will  give  no  sign,  and  the  bell  will  never  ring.  She 
would  starve  before  she  would  ask  you  out,  but  she  would 
die  before  she  would  ask  you  in,  for  Presbyterians  are  not 
built  that  way.  Her  father  would  immolate  her  for  tak- 
ing such  a  liberty.  The  best  you  can  hope  for,  on  an  occa- 
sion like  that,  is  a  cold  red  pippin  on  a  cold  white  plate, 
served  where  you  sit  shivering,  in  that  vault -like  parlor. 

If  you  wish  to  be  frisky  with  Miss  Westminster,  it  is 
possible  in  but  one  way.  Ask  her  to  go  to  church.  Sun- 
day morning  church  is  the  most  tumultuous  of  her  gaye- 
ties;  Sunday  night  service  is  to  her  what  an  ordinary 


242  THE  END   OF  AN   ERA 

dancing  party  would  be,  as  compared  with  a  state  ball,  j 
to  Miss  Litany ;  and  Wednesday  evening  lectures  are  to 
her   what  excursions  for  ice-cream  or  soda-water  are  to 
"  unregenerate  "  girls. 

My !  for  wild  hilarity  commend  me  to  a  coterie  of 
strictly  reared  young  female  Presbyterians.  An  evening 
spent  among  them  is  like  sitting  upon  icebergs,  cracking 
hailstones  with  one's  teeth. 

Yet,  dear  reader,  believe  me,  after  one  has  tried  it 
awhile,  surprising  as  the  statement  may  seem,  one  comes 
to  like  it.  Now  and  again,  one  of  them  says  something, 
or  does  something,  like  ordinary  mortals ;  and  what  she 
says  or  does  is  in  such  a  fetching,  fascinating,  feminine 
way  that  it  makes  one  want  to  go  again,  and  makes  one 
feel  glad  that  such  gentle,  pure,  refined,  simple,  and  true 
people  countenance  an  outside  barbarian  like  one's  self 
in  their  society. 

There  is,  believe  me,  a  lot  of  outcome  in  one  of  these 
little,  demure  Presbyterian  lassies.  Of  course,  if  she  has 
no  better  luck  than  to  marry  one  of  her  own  people,  that 
settles  it !  She  will  go  through  life  mooning  and  min- 
cing about,  like  a  turkey  hen  come  off  her  nest.  She 
will  pass  her  life  thinking  that  going  to  hear  sermons 
and  lectures  is  the  chief  end  of  man,  and  that  pippins, 
spiced  gingerbread,  and  cracked  walnuts,  served  in  a 
chilly  parlor,  are  fit  Christian  entertainments. 

She  may  even  live  and  die  thinking  she  is  happy,  not 
knowing  any  better. 

But  if,  perchance,  good  fortune  brings  her  a  knight 
with  a  feather  in  his  bonnet,  and  it  catches  her  little  meek 
eye,  as  it  is  mighty  apt  to  do  ;  if,  after  prayerful  consid- 
eration, her  strait-laced  parents  decide  that  it  is  best  for 
her  happiness  to  let  her  go,  even  at  her  soul's  peril ;  if, 
all  doubts  and  dangers  past,  she  is  borne  triumphantly 


PRESBYTERIAN  LEXINGTON  243 

away,  her  bonnet-box  stuffed  with  the  Shorter  Catechism 
and  all  orthodox  kirk  rudiments,  —  I  assure  you  it  is 
surprising  how  promptly  the  little  bud  expands,  and  how 
quickly  she  adapts  herself  to  new  surroundings. 

I  speak  whereof  I  know. 

How  long  we  have  been  in  Lexington  without  reporting 
for  duty ! 


CHAPTER    XVII 

A  NEW   PHASE   OF  MILITARY   LIFE 

Looking  eastward  from  the  front  of  the  tavern  where 
the  stage-coach  deposited  us,  the  barracks,  mess-hall,  pro- 
fessors' houses,  parade  ground,  and  limits  of  the  Virginia 
Military  Institute  were  in  view  upon  a  hill  about  half  a 
mile  distant. 

My  first  care  was  to  send  a  messenger  with  a  note 
announcing  my  arrival  to  my  cousin  Louis,  who  had  pre- 
ceded me  at  the  Institute  by  a  year.  When  he  came, 
he  explained  that  his  tardiness  was  due  to  the  length  of 
time  it  required  for  an  application  for  permission  to  leave 
the  limits  of  the  Institute  to  pass  through  the  necessary 
official  channels. 

His  greeting  was  hearty  and  joyous ;  it  had  been  a 
long  time  since  he  had  seen  any  relative  from  the  outside 
world,  and  this  little  release  was  quite  a  lark.  How  well 
and  bright-eyed  he  looked  in  his  tight-fitting  shell  jacket ! 
When  we  parted  at  Norfolk  a  year  before,  he  was  an 
easy-going,  slack-twisted  little  civilian,  without  particu- 
larly attractive  dress  or  bearing.  Now,  he  carried  him- 
self like  a  fighting-cock.  Exercise  had  hardened  him 
and  developed  his  figure,  his  clothing  fitted  him  like  a 
glove,  and  there  was  an  easy  confidence  in  his  manner. 
In  a  word,  he  had  been  licked  into  military  shape. 

We  sallied  forth  together  to  report  for  duty  at  the 
office  of  the  superintendent,  General  Francis  H.  Smith. 
His  study  was  a  very  attractive  place  :  it  was  a  hexagonal 


A  NEW  PHASE   OF  MILITARY  LIFE  245 

room,  well  lit ;  bookcases  stood  about  the  walls,  and  it 
was  ornamented  with  a  number  of  striking  military  pic- 
tures, chiefly  French ;  a  bright  wood-fire  crackled  in  the 
open  fireplace.  In  a  former  chapter  I  alluded  to  General 
Smith.  He  had,  at  the  time  about  which  I  write,  been 
superintendent  twenty-three  years,  although  he  was  then 
only  about  fifty. 

Your  elderly  soldier  is  generally  of  one  of  two  types  : 
one  is  the  rubicund,  thunderous  type ;  the  other,  the  lean, 
pale,  spectacled,  quiet  type.  There  are  modifications  and 
variations  of  these  two  generic  classifications,  of  course : 
but  under  one  or  the  other  the  great  mass  of  elderly 
soldiers  may  be  grouped. 

To  the  latter  belonged  General  Smith.  He  was  tall, 
thin,  agile ;  in  youth  he  had  been  an  extreme  blonde ; 
his  lithe  figure  still  bore  a  soldierly  aspect.  His  face  was 
that  of  a  student,  with  that  expression  emphasized  by  the 
gold  spectacles  through  which  he  looked  keenly ;  those 
spectacles  were  so  much  a  part  of  him  that  he  was  uni- 
versally known  as  "  Old  Spex."  As  he  sat  in  his  office 
in  his  blue  uniform,  with  one  leg  crossed  over  the  other, 
many  a  cadet  has  no  doubt  wondered  how  thin  those  long 
legs  really  were,  seeing  how  close  they  lay  together.  His 
life  had  been  given  up  entirely  to  his  work  as  superin- 
tendent ;  he  had  traveled  abroad  to  study  foreign  schools 
and  secure  their  best  features ;  he  was  author  of  several 
mathematical  treatises,  as  well  as  a  most  admirable 
teacher.  A.  prominent  churchman  ;  a  man  of  abstemious 
habits  and  boundless  industry ;  one  of  the  best  politicians 
in  the  State,  —  he  knew  every  man  of  importance  in  Vir- 
ginia, and  had  the  faculty  of  enlisting  the  interest  of 
politicians  of  all  parties  in  the  success  of  the  Virginia 
Military  Institute.  No  matter  what  might  be  the  acrimony 
of  factions,  or   the  stress  of  public  necessities  in  other 


246  THE  END   OF  AN  ERA 

directions,  his  legislative  appropriations  never  failed,  and 
support  of  his  school  never  flagged.  His  tact  in  man- 
agement and  insight  into  the  character  of  cadets  was 
marvelous.  His  acquaintance  with  the  minutest  details 
of  every  department  in  the  school  was  perfect,  and  the 
personal  interest  which  he  manifested  in  every  cadet 
intrusted  to  his  care  was  at  once  a  warning  and  a  stimu- 
lus to  the  boy.  He  was  in  truth  a  very  remarkable  man ; 
his  peculiarities  were  as  marked  as  his  excellencies ; 
and,  while  those  peculiarities  did  not  seriously  detract 
from  him,  they  gave  him  a  distinct  individuality.  A 
monument  to  Colonel  Thayer  stands  in  front  of  the 
United  States  Military  Academy,  describing  him  as  the 
father  of  the  institution.  One  like  it  should  be  reared  to 
General  Smith  at  the  Virginia  Military  Institute,  for  to 
it  he  was  even  more  a  father  than  was  Thayer  to  West 
Point,  or  Arnold  to  Rugby. 

Behind  those  gold  spectacles,  and  with  those  long, 
thin  legs  lapped  over  each  other,  he  sat  at  a  table  writing 
as  we  entered  and  stood  near  the  door,  caps  in  hand,  at 
attention.  He  seemed  engrossed;  a  moment  later,  he 
lifted  his  eyes ;  squinting  a  little  and  peering  through  his 
glasses,  he  caught  sight  of  us  and  exclaimed,  "  Ah-h ! 
who  's  this  ?  "  Louis  explained.  "  Well,  young  man, 
how  are  you  ?  Glad  to  see  you.  How  is  your  father? 
What  have  you  studied  ?  How  far  have  you  been  in 
mathematics  ?  In  French  ?  In  Latin  ?  "  And,  going- 
straight  at  the  matter  in  hand,  he  plied  me  with  queries 
until  he  knew  all  that  was  necessary  ;  then  "  Fourth-class 
is  best  for  him,"  he  said. 

Soon  fixed  up  by  the  adjutant,  we  started  for  the  com- 
mandant's office  across  the  parade  ground.  The  com- 
mandant of  cadets,  Major  Scott  Shipp,  was  a  large  man, 
with  close-trimmed  black  hair  and  beard,  a  solemn  bear- 


A   NEW   PHASE   OF  MILITARY   LIFE  247 

ing,  and  a  deep  voice.  Although  he  was  then  but  twenty- 
four  years  of  age,  I  thought  he  was  forty.  He  remained 
commandant  for  nearly  thirty  years  after  this,  and  is  now 
superintendent.  In  its  fifty-eight  years  of  life,  the  school 
has  had  but  two  superintendents.  Our  business  with  the 
commandant  consisted  of  securing  an  assignment  to  a 
room  and  to  a  company,  and  attending  to  some  minor 
details.  Then  we  reported  to  my  first  sergeant,  who  was 
no  other  than  Benjamin  Colonna,  our  room-mate. 

Louis  and  I  found  my  trunk  at  the  sallyport,  whither 
it  had  been  sent  from  the  hotel,  and  lugged  it  off  to  the 
arsenal,  which  stood  in  the  quadrangle,  for  no  trunks 
were  allowed  in  rooms.  Cadet  clothing  was  kept  in  a 
large  wardrobe,  placed  in  each  room,  divided  into  com- 
partments which  were  assigned  to  the  respective  occu- 
pants. 

The  cadet  barracks  was  a  handsome  four-storied  build- 
ing, occupying  three  sides  of  a  quadrangle,  with  towers 
at  the  corners  and  at  a  sallyport  with  central  arch.  On 
the  inner  side  were  three  broad  stoops  running  all  around 
the  building,  reached  by  stairways  upon  the  stoops.  The 
cadet  quarters  opened  upon  these  stoops.  At  the  turrets, 
the  rooms  were  double,  occupied  in  most  instances  by 
tactical  officers  ;  elsewhere,  the  rooms  were  single.  The 
ventilation,  light,  and  heat  of  the  quarters  were  excellent. 
The  furniture  of  each  room  consisted  of  a  gun-rack, 
washstand,  wardrobe  ;  large  oak  table  in  the  centre  of  the 
room,  under  a  gas-light ;  a  chair  for  each  cadet,  a  book 
rack  and  a  blacking-stool,  beds  and  bedsteads.  Thirty 
minutes  after  reveille,  the  beds  were  required  to  be  rolled 
up,  strapped,  and  stood  in  the  corner,  flanked  by  the  bed- 
steads folded.  Beds  could  not  be  put  down  until  after 
tattoo.  The  occupants  of  the  room  were  alternately  de- 
tailed as  orderly  for  a  week,  and  each  was  held  responsible 


248  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

for  observance  of  regulations  and  for  the  police  of  the 
room,  which  was  inspected  at  least  twice  a  clay. 

On  arrival  at  our  rooms,  I  had  a  bluff  but  pleasant 
welcome  from  Colonna,  who  called  me  "  Mr.  Rat,"  and,  as 
it  was  a  rule  of  the  Institute  that  every  plebe  should  be 
"  bucked,"  he  and  Louis  proceeded  to  attend  to  my  case. 
A  bed-strap  was  buckled  about  my  wrists ;  I  was  ordered 
up  on  the  table  and  compelled  to  draw  up  my  knees,  over 
which  my  bound  arms  were  slipped ;  a  ramrod  was  run 
under  my  knees  and  over  my  arms,  and  then  I  was  rolled 
over  on  my  side,  and  Louis  and  Colonna,  with  a  bayonet 
scabbard,  spelled  Constantinople.  The  taps 
given  by  these  laughing  friends  were  light,  but  sufficiently 
stinging  to  make  me  appreciate  what  it  might  have  been. 

"  Now,  Rat,  you  have  been  bucked,"  laughed  Colonna, 
as  they  set  me  upright  and  loosened  the  cords.  "  If  any- 
body asks  you  whether  you  have  been  '  bucked,'  say, 
4  Yes,  sir  ; '  be  sure  to  say  sir,  d'  ye  understand  ?  Then, 
if  they  ask  you  whose  Rat  you  are,  say,  'Mr.  Colonna's 
rat,  sir.''  Be  sure  to  say  sir,  d'  ye  understand  ?  And  then 
you  take  care  to  say  as  little  more  as  you  can,  for  it 's 
these  long-tongued  Rats  that  get  into  trouble,  d'  ye  under- 
stand ? "  Yes,  I  understood.  I  resolved  to  keep  that 
mouth,  that  has  gotten  me  in  trouble  all  my  life,  shut 
tight. 

Up  to  now,  I  had  been  agreeably  surprised.  I  expected 
that  I  should  be  seized  upon  as  soon  as  I  entered  the 
barracks,  but  so  far  I  had  seen  very  few  cadets  about. 
I  did  not  realize  that  it  was  study-hours,  at  which  time 
the  cadets  were  in  their  class-rooms,  or  confined  to 
quarters,  and  were  strictly  forbidden  to  visit,  or  to  loiter 
on  the  stoops  or  about  the  archway. 

"  What  is  that?  "  I  asked,  as  a  drum  was  beaten  in  the 
area,  its  sounds  reverberating  through  the  barracks. 


A  NEW   PHASE   OF  MILITARY   LIFE  249 

"  First  drum  for  dinner,"  said  Louis ;  "  dinner  roll- 
call  in  five  minutes,"  and  he,  Colonna,  and  Phillips  began 
polishing  their  shoes. 

"Now,  Mr.  Eat,  if  you  don't  want  to  be  bully  - 
agged,  you  wait  under  the  arch  until  I  give  the  com- 
mand, '  Fall  in  ! '  when  the  clock  strikes,  and  then  run 
to  your  place  in  ranks  in  front  of  barracks.  My  com- 
pany is  on  the  left ;  I  '11  wait,  before  giving  the  command 
'  Front,'  until  I  see  you  are  in  ranks,  so  you  will  not  be 
late." 

This  thoughtful  advice  from  Colonna  I  obeyed  strictly, 
so  that  nobody  troubled  me.  I  felt  quite  proud  in  ranks, 
and  answered  to  my  name  clearly.  The  companies  were 
side-stepped  together,  and  then  the  first  captain  assumed 
charge,  broke  the  battalion  into  columns  of  fours,  and 
marched  us  off  to  the  mess-hall.  I  had  never  seen  a 
figure  quite  so  trim,  or  heard  a  voice  quite  so  clarion,  as 
the  first  captain's.  The  crunching  cadence  of  the  step 
of  three  hundred  boys  upon  the  gravel  walk  would  have 
made  a  muley  cow  keep  step.  Tramp,  tramp,  tramp  we 
went  up  the  broad  stairway  of  the  mess-hall,  and,  as  we 
reached  the  hall,  companies  filed  away  to  their  respective 
seats  at  the  eight  long  tables.  When  all  were  in  place, 
the  command  "  Seats  "  was  given  by  the  first  captain,  and 
in  another  instant,  where  all  had  been  silent,  it  was  a 
babel  of  voices.  Colonna  had  his  eye  on  me,  and  assigned 
me  a  seat ;  not  up  with  him,  of  course,  but  down  at  the 
foot  with  some  other  plebes. 

It  was  a  good,  hot,  smoking  meal,  better  than  I  ex- 
pected, and  every  one  of  us  had  a  good,  hot,  smoking 
appetite,  as  was  evidenced  by  the  quick,  disappearance 
of  the  food,  and  the  cries  from  the  heads  of  tables : 
"  Beef  here,  waiter,"  "  Bread  here,  waiter,"  "  Potatoes 
here,  waiter,"  which   soon   resounded   through  the  hall. 


250  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

Nobody  but  the  non-commissioned  officers,  stationed,  at 
the  head  and  foot  of  the  table,  could  address  the  waiters. 
These  later  fairly  ran  in  filling  orders.  I  found  a  little 
fellow  sitting  next  to  me  who  had  only  been  in  a  day  or 
two,  and  we  had  some  quiet,  timid  talk  between  our- 
selves. 

"  At-ten-£io?i !  "  rang  through  the  hall  after  twenty-five 
minutes  consumed  in  consuming.  Dead  silence  reigned, 
where  everybody  had  been  talking.  "  Rise  up  !  "  and  we 
rose,  re-formed  in  front  of  the  mess-hall,  were  broken  into 
columns  of  fours,  marched  back  to  barracks,  and  as  the 
battalion  reached  its  original  position  the  command  came, 
"  Break  ranks,  march,"  which  was  the  signal  for  a  gen- 
eral mix-up,  in  a  leisure  period  of  thirty  minutes  which 
followed  each  meal,  during  which  cadets  were  allowed 
to  visit  one  another's  rooms,  and  dispose  of  themselves 
as  they  saw  fit,  until  "  Study  drum "  beat.  I  thought 
trouble  was  in  store  for  me  then,  for  I  discovered  in  the 
mess-hall  not  less  than  a  dozen  former  acquaintances, 
most  of  whom  were  old  cadets,  and  they  discovered  me. 
I  apprehended  that  they  would  have  something  to  say 
to  me,  and,  knowing  of  my  recent  arrival,  might  amuse 
themselves  at  my  expense ;  but  it  was  not  so  bad  as  I 
expected.  Such  of  them  as  I  met  after  the  corps  was 
dismissed  spoke  to  me  with  civility  and  passed  on.  It 
was,  as  I  afterwards  learned,  etiquette  in  an  old  cadet  ac- 
quaintance not  to  torture  a  plebe  whom  he  had  known 
elsewhere.  Being  old  cadets,  they  would  not  associate 
with  a  plebe,  but,  unless  he  was  "  impudent,"  they  so  far 
recognized  former  acquaintanceship  as  to  let  him  alone. 

Before  I  reached  the  sallyport,  however,  several 
strange,  saucy,  and  piratical-looking  young  Hessians  had 
their  eyes  upon  me,  and  my  relief  was  very  great  when 
Louis,  in}^  guardian  angel,  came  hurrying  down  from  A 


A  NEW   PHASE   OF  MILITARY  LIFE  251 

Company,  and  with  an  air  of  authority  said,  "  Here, 
Mr.  Rat,  you  come  with  me."  His  whole  manner  changed 
as  soon  as  we  were  out  of  their  presence,  and  he  said, 
"  Those  chaps  would  have  drawn  you  into  conversation  in 
another  minute,  and  then  they  would  have  had  a  lot  of 
fun  out  of  you." 

The  permit  to  go  out  of  limits,  which  Louis  had  ob- 
tained in  the  morning,  was  good  until  dress  parade,  and 
he  proposed  that  we  should  go  out  and  about.  Before 
we  left,  I  learned  the  meaning  of  his  talk  about  "  buying 
apples  with  my  coat."  During  the  half  hour  after  dinner, 
a  number  of  mountain  women,  with  bags  and  baskets  of 
apples,  appeared  in  front  of  barracks,  and  the  cadets  car- 
ried on  the  liveliest  imaginable  trading  with  them,  ex- 
changing old  clothes  for  apples. 

At  West  Point,  the  cadet  old  clothes  are  religiously 
preserved  and  sold,  and  their  proceeds  are  applied  to  a 
mess-fund.  The  interest  on  that  fund  is  expended  upon 
the  cadet  mess,  and  the  fund  has  already  grown  so  Large 
that  the  character  of  cadet  fare  is  much  improved,  and 
the  cost  of  the  mess  to  cadets  is  materially  reduced. 
Think  what  might  have  been  accomplished  at  the  Vir- 
ginia Military  Institute  if  this  same  policy  had  been 
pursued  !  Instead  of  that,  for  fifty-eight  years  the  cadets 
have  been  allowed  to  throw  away  their  old  clothes  in  the 
most  reckless  fashion.  I  have  seen  many  a  cadet  jacket 
traded  off  for  half  a  peck  of  apples  ;  and  if  a  cadet  were 
really  hungry,  I  think  he  would  trade  the  coat  on  his 
back  for  one  apple-pie. 

That  afternoon  our  stroll  took  us  down  to  the  river, 
where  the  terminus  of  the  canal  was  located.  There 
were  in  those  days  no  railroads  running  into  Lexington. 
The  stage-coach  and  this  primitive  means  of  travel  were 
its  only  public  means  of  communication  with  the  outside 


252  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

world.  I  soon  learned  where  the  laundries  were,  and 
where  the  boys  skated  in  cold  weather,  and  what  were 
the  different  points  of  interest.  Louis  led  me  to  the 
house  of  an  old  Irishman  who  sold  cider  and  cakes  to  the 
cadets,  and  we  regaled  ourselves.  Then  we  came  back  by 
the  rear  way  up  the  stream  called  the  Nile,  which  runs 
behind  the  Institute  grounds,  and  clambered  up  the 
bluffs  and  stole  around  to  the  bakery  where  old  Judge, 
the  baker,  gave  us  a  hot  loaf  just  drawn  from  the  oven, 
it  having  been  cooked  for  the  cadets'  supper.  Louis 
explained  that  we  were  out  of  limits  now,  as  cadets  were 
forbidden  to  visit  the  bakery,  and,  if  caught,  received 
five  demerits  and  an  extra  tour  of  guard  duty.  The 
sensation  of  disobeying  orders  was  rather  pleasant,  I 
confess.  Judge  was  a  wonderful  old  negro  ;  he  had  been 
there  many  years.  In  appearance,  he  was  a  black  Sancho 
Panza,  fat  and  puffing  and  jolly ;  he  was  a  darkey  of 
moods.  Sometimes  his  mood  was  religious,  sometimes 
it  was  profane  ;  but,  whether  the  one  or  the  other,  he 
was  always  amusing. 

Out  of  that  first  introduction  grew  a  long  friendship 
with  Judge,  and  when  he  confronted  St.  Peter,  the  pile 
of  bread  stacked  up  against  him  in  Heaven  must  have 
been  tremendous  ;  for  every  cadet  who  was  at  Lexington 
in  the  thirty  years  of  his  stewardship  received  from  him 
at  least  ten  loaves  stolen  from  the  Commonwealth  of  Vir- 
ginia. Bless  his  hot,  jolly,  fat,  black,  flour-smirched, 
roguish  memory !  His  portrait,  with  his  baker's  cap 
jauntily  tipped,  now  adorns  the  cadet  mess-hall  in  the 
company  of  generals  and  other  distinguished  citizens 
departed. 

Then  we  visited  old  Reilly,  another  famous  character. 
Stone  blind,  the  old  fellow  earned  a  good  living  making 
hair  mattresses  for  the  cadets.     He  measured,  cut,  sewed, 


A  NEW  PHASE   OF  MILITARY  LIFE  253 

trimmed,  bound,  filled,  and  knotted  mattresses  as  well  as 
any  one  could  do  with  the  finest  eyesight.  He  was  an 
ardent  politician,  and  a  devoted  admirer  of  my  father. 
The  old  man  was  always  delighted  to  receive  visitors, 
and  was  full  of  cadet  knowledge  and  reminiscence  as 
he  sat  there,  blind  as  a  bat,  but  working  like  a  beaver. 

Then  we  strolled  to  the  regions  in  rear  of  the  pro- 
fessors' houses,  where  Louis  showed  me,  near  the  bluffs, 
in  a  wooded  spot,  a  sort  of  natural  amphitheatre,  which 
he  described  as  the  "  fighting-ground."  Seated  on  the 
edge  of  this  depression,  he  entered  on  a  vivid  and  thrill- 
ing description  of  the  last  great  battle  here,  which  had 
taken  place  between  the  present  first  captain,  in  his  third 
class  year,  and  another  cadet ;  it  was  very  interesting. 

"  But,"  he  said,  "  of  course  he  would  not  fight  any 
more.  First  and  second  class  men  are  above  fighting. 
They  frown  it  down  and  punish  it.  Only  yearlings  like 
myself  and  plebes  like  you  fight,  you  know." 

"  Yes,"  said  I ;  but  I  did  not  know  any  such  thing 
until  he  told  it  to  me.  Thus  we  went  on,  he  teaching 
and  I  absorbing  like  a  sponge,  all  the  while  having  a 
suspicion  that  I  might  see  the  "  fighting-ground "  again 
some  day.  Just  then  we  caught  the  sound  of  a  drum  : 
"  Rap,  rap,  rap,  —  rap,  rap,  rap,  —  rap,  rap,  rap,  —  rap, 
rap,  rap,  rap, — rap,  rap,  rap." 

Springing  to  his  feet,  he  exclaimed  :  "  Gracious !  there 
is  dress  parade ;  we  must  run  for  it."  So  off  we  sped, 
running  by  the  rear  of  the  professors'  houses  and  scram- 
bling over  the  stile,  reaching  the  barracks  as  the  boys 
were  streaming  down  the  stairways,  pulling  on  their 
gloves  and  arranging  their  accoutrements.  Louis  barely 
saved  his  distance,  and  came  tearing  through  the  arch 
just  as  the  command,  "  Fall  in  !  "  was  sung  out  by  the 
four  first  sergeants.     I  went  with  a  squad  of  plebes,  who 


254  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

without  arms  were  marched  out  after  the  companies  and 
formed  on  the  left  of  the  battalion. 

It  was  a  brave  sight  when  the  drums  and  fifes  struck 
up  (we  had  no  band  in  those  days)  ;  the  colors  marched 
forth  and  gave  the  alignment ;  the  companies  followed  and 
formed  on  the  colors,  and  the  officer  in  charge  put  the 
battalion  through  its  drill.  Then  we  marched  back  and 
were  dismissed.  Evening  parade,  supper,  study  hours, 
tattoo,  taps,  came  in  their  regular  order ;  and  as  I  went 
to  sleep,  soon  after  taps  inspection,  it  was  with  the 
thought  that  this  had  been  one  of  the  most  eventful  and 
delightful  days  I  ever  spent. 

Reveille  !  What  part  of  cadet  routine  is  so  well  remem- 
bered as  that  ?  Awakened  at  crack  of  dawn  from  dream- 
less sleep  by  the  long-drawn  notes  of  fife  and  drum,  our 
first  semi-conscious  impulse  was  to  slumber  on,  soothed  by 
the  drowsy  tune.  Not  long  such  thoughts,  however  ;  for, 
with  a  quick  ruffle  of  the  drums,  the  tune  was  changed. 
A  gay  and  lilting  quickstep  took  its  place,  crashing  up 
and  down  and  through  the  dormitories.  Quick,  respon- 
sive lights  were  twinkling  in  a  hundred  rooms,  where  but 
a  few  moments  before  all  was  silence.  Three  hundred 
youngsters  were  hurrying  for  the  ranks.  As  if  to  mock 
their  haste,  the  tune  changed  again,  and  the  music  went 
floating  off  once  more  into  dreamland,  while  the  cadets 
grew  more  impetuous  in  their  preparations.  Then  the 
last  tune  came.  This  was  no  sluggard's  lullaby.  It  was 
a  ringing  summons  to  the  front,  in  which  the  drums 
seemed  to  be  trying  to  drown  the  air  the  fifes  were  piping 
gayly.     The  latest  plebe  in  barracks  knew  the  words  :  — 

"  Wake-up-rats-and-come-to  Reveille 
If-you-want  to  get-your-corp-orality, 
Wake  up  rats  !     Come  to  Reveille 
If  you  want  to  get  YOUR  corporalite-e-e-e-e ! " 


A  NEW  PHASE   OF  MILITARY  LIFE  255 

Then,  with  three  long  rolls  and  two  final  thumps,  the 
music  ceased. 

Towards  the  close  of  this  matin  concert,  stoops,  stairs, 
and  archway  swarmed  with  hundreds  of  cadets,  half- 
awake,  hurrying-  to  their  places  in  the  forming  ranks.  As 
the  last  laggard  whisked  through  the  sallyport,  strug- 
gling to  avoid  being  late,  the  chill  morning  air  resounded 
with  the  commands  of  the  first  sergeants :  "  Fall  in  A 
Compane-e-e-e  !  Fall  in  B  and  C  and  D  Compane-e-e-e ! " 
Then,  after  a  moment's  pause,  sergeant  after  sergeant 
gave  the  command,  "  Front !  "  and  away  they  went,  rat- 
tling off  the  rolls  with  surprising  noise  and  speed.  Then 
came  another  pause,  in  which,  as  the  boys  stood  shiver- 
ing in  the  nipping  daybreak,  the  first  sergeants  spotted 
absentees  by  repeating  their  names  with  marvelous  and 
unerring  accuracy. 

Banks  broken,  the  cadets,  with  heads  drawn  in  and 
hands  stuck  in  their  waistbands,  went  back  to  quarters  in 
sullen  silence,  or  with  deep  anathemas  upon  reveille. 

Yet  how  beautiful  it  was !  On  the  eastern  face  of  forest, 
peak,  and  barrack-tower  the  blush  of  morning  shone, 
while  all  else  was  in  shadow.  Against  the  glowing  east, 
the  undulating  sky-line  of  the  distant  Blue  Ridge  was  cut 
clear  and  strong,  with  purple  shadows  filling  in  the  space 
between  us  and  them,  save  where  the  valley  mists  were 
tipped  with  morning  light.  Correggio  could  not  paint  nor 
Claud  attain  the  limpid  high-lights,  the  clear-obscure,  the 
deep  visible-invisible,  of  those  exquisite  autumn  day- 
breaks in  the  mountains. 

Old  boys,  wherever  you  may  be,  have  you  forgotten 
them  ? 

About  them,  even  then,  there  was  a  sentiment,  —  a  sen- 
timent which  deepens  as  the  years  roll  by.  We  were 
looking  upon  the  shining  morning  face  not  only  of  na- 


256  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

ture,  but  of  life  also.  Yes,  in  memory  the  shining  morn- 
ing faces  of  those  schoolboys  still  live,  framed  in  a  setting 
of  mountain  peaks  and  barrack  towers,  gilded  by  the  first 
faint  rays  of  sunrise. 

Thirty  minutes  after  reveille  found  the  plebes  assem- 
bled in  squads  of  three  or  four,  and  marched  away  by 
old  cadets  for  awkward-squad  exercises  upon  the  parade 
ground.  Drill  until  the  drum  for  breakfast  dispensed 
with  all  need  of  appetizing  tonics. 

After  breakfast,  academic   exercises   not  having  been 
resumed  as  yet,  the  squad  drills  were  continued,  and  fa 
and  wide  on  the  parade  the  groups  of  plebes  were  to  be 
seen,  and  the  voice  of  the  drill-master  was  heard. 

So  far,  all  had  gone  well  with  me.  Beyond  some  little 
chaffing,  no  old  cadet  had  troubled  me,  and  the  squad- 
marcher  had  complimented  me  on  attention  and  prompt- 
ness. 

We  were  resting.  A  squad  of  plebes,  moved  at  double 
time,  were  brought  down  to  where  we  were  standing  and 
halted  near  us,  by  a  stocky,  aggressive-looking  old  cadet. 
Having  ordered  a  rest,  Sprague  (that  was  his  name)  came 
over  to  speak  to  our  drill-master.  "  I  'm  giving  those 
Rats  thunder  !  "  said  he,  pointing  to  the  panting  plebes. 
And  so  he  was.  Instead  of  practicing  his  squad  in  set- 
ting-up exercises,  he  was  prancing  them  all  over  the 
parade  ground.  "  What  sort  of  Rats  have  you  got  ? " 
said  he,  looking  us  over  in  an  insolent  way.  "  Oh,  a 
fair  enough  lot,"  said  our  squad-marcher,  an  easy-going 
but  efficient  man.  Sprague  looked  at  us  keenly,  and 
asked  our  names.  Some  look  of  mine,  I  presume,  or  the 
fact  that  I  was  nearest  to  him,  made  him  continue  his 
probing  of  me,  and  I  was  not  very  civil. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Rat,  you  are  impudent,"  said  he.  Then, 
glancing  around  to  see  that  the  sub-professor  in  charge 


A  NEW  PHASE  OP  MILITARY  LIFE  257 

was  not  looking,  he  commanded  me  to  "  hold  up."  That 
meant  that  I  was  to  hold  up  my  hand  and  let  him  twist 
my  arm.  By  this  time  I  was  piping  hot,  but  had  sense 
enough  to  keep  silent. 

"  Hold  up,  sir !  "  said  he  peremptorily. 

"  Shut  up,  sir  !  "  replied  I ;  and  there,  all  the  wise 
counsel  which  Louis  and  Colonna  had  given  me,  and  all 
the  good  resolves  I  had  made,  were  vanished  into  thin  air 
with  those  three  words. 

"  Mr.  Eat,"  said  he,  drawing  close  to  me,  and  shaking 
'his  finger  in  my  face  as  he  hissed  the  words,  "  I  will  at- 
tend to  you  as  soon  as  we  get  back  to  barracks.  I  '11  take 
some  of  that  rebellious  spirit  out  of  you.  See  if  I  don't." 
I  was  about  to  answer  him  with  defiance,  when  our  squad 
was  called  to  attention  and  drill  was  resumed.  It  is  not 
difficult  to  appreciate  that  the  remainder  of  that  drill  was 
far  from  being  a  period  of  happiness.  All  the  time,  I 
was  calculating  how  to  receive  the  attack.  Finally,  I 
counted  that  if  I  could  succeed  in  reaching  our  room, 
I  might  take  a  musket,  and  defend  myself  with  a  bayo- 
net. Sprague  looked  like  a  game  one,  and  I  knew  that 
he  would  have  plenty  of  backers.  When  the  recall  beat, 
our  squad  was  near  barracks.  We  went  in  on  double 
time,  and  when  the  squad  was  dismissed,  I  made  a  bold 
dash  for  the  archway.  I  thought  I  was  safe,  for  I  had 
nearly  reached  the  sallyport ;  but  when  almost  in,  I  saw 
Sprague  dismiss  his  squad  and  start  after  me,  calling, 
"  Catch  that  Rat !  " 

Through  the  arch  we  sped,  and  it  seemed  as  if  I  would 
reach  our  room  upon  the  second  stoop,  for  I  was  nearly 
at  the  stairway.  But !  but !  but !  Just  at  that  moment 
a  tremendous  fellow  shot  like  a  goshawk  from  the  door  I 
was  about  to  pass,  ana,  slipping  his  right  arm  about  my 
waist,  nearly  lifted  me  from  the  ground  and  held  me  tight 


258  THE  END  OF  AN  ERA 

as  a  vise,  until  Sprague  and  a  dozen  others  came  up.  In- 
furiated beyond  all  control,  I  struck  out  like  a  clever  fellow, 
but  they  bore  me  straight  along,  up  the  steps  and  into 
the  first  room  on  the  second  stoop,  and  in  a  jiffy  had  me 
bound  and  on  a  table.  In  another  instant  I  should  have 
felt  the  brass  ferrule  of  a  bayonet-scabbard  administered 
without  pity.  The  room  was  filled  with  cadets,  all  bent 
on  disciplining  a  rebellious  Rat. 

At  the  very  crisis,  the  crowd  near  the  doorway  swayed 
back  and  forth.  Some  one  exclaimed,  "  Get  out  of  the 
way,  or  I  '11  plunge  this  bayonet  into  you !  "  and  Louis 
bounded  in,  with  gleaming  eyes,  his  jaws  set  like  a  bull- 
pup's.  Rushing  up  to  Sprague  he  said,  "  No,  sir  !  You  '11 
not  buck  that  Rat !  " 

"  Yes,  I  will,"  said  Sprague. 

"  Not  unless  you  can  whip  me !  "  was  the  game  reply  of 
Louis,  as  he  began  to  slip  off  his  jacket.  "  I  bucked  him 
yesterday,  and  I  asked  Boggess  all  about  what  happened 
on  the  parade  ground,  and  he  says  you  provoked  and 
teased  the  Rat  until  you  forced  him  to  be  impudent.  You 
shan't  touch  him."  With  that  he  sprang  towards  me  to 
unloose  the  fastenings.  The  crowd  grew  agitated.  Sprague 
made  a  motion  to  fight,  and  in  another  instant  we  should 
have  had  a  pretty  mess,  when  — 

"  Rap,  rap,  rap  !  Rap,  rap,  rap !  "  came  sharp  and 
loud  upon  the  door.  Everybody  knew  what  it  meant ! 
Somebody,  quick  as  lightning,  undid  the  straps,  jerked  me 
off  the  table,  and  stood  me  on  my  feet ;  and  Captain 
Semmes,  the  officer  in  charge,  walked  into  the  room 
serenely.  With  a  dignified  and  inquiring  look  at  the 
cadets  now  crowded  back  against  the  walls,  he  said, 
"  Gentlemen,  what 's  all  this  disturbance  ?  " 

Louis  was  slipping  on  his  cadet  jacket,  and,  sidling  up 
to  me,  said,  "  Don't  say  a  word.  Whatever  you  do,  don't 
peach." 


A  NEW  PHASE   OF   MILITARY   LIFE  259 

"  What  does  this  all  mean,  gentlemen  ?  "  repeated  the 
captain,  in  louder  and  more  peremptory  tones. 

Sprague  at  last  spoke  up  :  "  Oh,  nothing  ;  I  just  had 
a  little  misunderstanding  with  that  gentleman  there," 
pointing  to  me. 

I  was  so  elated  by  the  unexpected  turn  things  had 
taken  that  my  good-nature  had  returned,  and  when  Cap- 
tain Semmes  turned  to  me  and  asked  what  it  all  meant,  I 
said,  "  Oh,  we  were  just  trying  to  see  who  was  strongest." 

"  Go  to  your  rooms,  gentlemen,  all  of  you,  at  once  !  " 
said  Captain  Semmes,  waiting  to  see  that  his  orders  were 
carried  out;  and  then  he  departed,  without  seeking  too 
many  explanations,  for  in  his  day  he  had  been  a  terror  to 
plebes. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Rat !  "  said  Louis,  when  we  reached  our 
rooms,  and  found  fat  Colonna  sitting  there,  still  wearing 
his  sword  and  sash,  laughing  at  our  discomfiture,  "  you 
have  put  your  foot  in  it,  sure  enough.  You  have  not  only 
made  yourself  a  target,  but  I  expect  that  round-shouldered, 
long-armed,  bull-yearling  of  a  Sprague  will  beat  me  to 
death  about  this  business." 

Then  Colonna,  who  was  above  the  dignity  of  such 
scrapes,  but  had  witnessed  my  race  and  capture,  nearly 
had  fits  describing  how  big  Wood  had  seized  me,  and  how 
they  had  turned  me  upside  down  going  up  the  steps,  and 
how  I  nearly  kicked  Billy  Mason's  eye  out,  and  a  lot  of 
other  things  that  did  and  did  not  happen ;  for  Colonna 
was  a  great  tease. 

Dinner  drum  was  sounded,  and  I  went  down,  reflecting 
that  the  first  twenty-four  hours  of  my  military  life  were 
completed. 

A  day  or  two  afterwards,  academic  studies  were  re- 
sumed. With  mathematics,  Latin,  French,  and  drawing 
added  to  military  duties,  there  was  little  time  for  play. 


260  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

A  half  day's  holiday  on  Saturday,  during  which  we 
were  permitted  to  leave  the  Institute  limits,  gave  us  but 
scant  opportunity  for  diversion.  Even  the  letters  of  in- 
troduction I  had  brought,  to  the  families  of  some  of  the 
professors,  remained  undelivered  for  lack  of  time. 

The  winter  of  1862-63  was  cold  enough.  While  the 
army  of  General  Lee  was  encamped  about  Fredericks- 
burg, after  a  gallant  defense  of  the  place,  we,  "the 
seed-corn  of  the  Confederacy,"  as  Mr.  Davis  called  us, 
were  very  comfortably  cared  for  in  barracks,  which  were 
heated  and  lighted  as  well  as  if  no  war  had  been  in 
progress. 

There  was  no  lack  of  news  from  the  front.  An  older 
brother  of  Louis  had  been  captured  at  Roanoke  Island, 
and,  while  awaiting  exchange,  was  acting  as  tactical 
officer  of  A  Company,  and  sub-professor  of  mathematics. 
He  was  a  sober-minded,  earnest  fellow,  always  watchful 
over  us,  and  he  occasionally  sent  for  us  to  come  to  his 
quarters,  that  he  might  advise,  or  warn,  or  rebuke  us  in 
an  affectionate  and  considerate  way.  We  were  devoted 
to  him,  and  prized  his  good  opinion  more  than  that  of 
anybody  else.  He  bore  my  father's  name,  and  counted 
me  as  much  in  his  charge  as  his  own  brother.  By  our 
access  to  his  quarters  opportunity  was  given  us  from  time 
to  time  to  hear  a  great  deal  of  news  from  the  front,  for 
never  a  great  battle  came  off  but  numbers  of  Virginia 
Military  Institute  boys  were  in  it,  and  they  seemed  to 
have  a  talent  for  getting  killed  or  wounded.  Those  from 
far  Southern  States,  instead  of  going  to  Alabama  or 
Mississippi  or  Louisiana  during  their  short  leaves,  would 
come  to  the  Virginia  Military  Institute,  room  with  some 
sub-professor  of  their  own  class,  and  assist  in  teaching, 
until  sufficiently  restored  to  return  to  duty. 

Captain  Henry  A.  Wise  was  a  universal  favorite  with 


A  NEW   PHASE   OF  MILITARY  LIFE  261 

the  graduates,  and  his  quarters  were  seldom  without  some 
occupant  of  the  class  described  above.  Everybody  con- 
nected with  the  Institute  had  a  nickname :  General 
Smith  was  "  Old  Spex,"  Colonel  Preston  was  "  Old 
Bald,"  Stonewall  Jackson  was  "Old  Jack,"  General  Col- 
ston "  Old  Polly,"  Colonel  Williamson  "  Old  Tom,"  Colo- 
nel Gilliam  "  Old  Gill,"  and  down  to  the  youngest 
"  sub  "  all  were  nicknamed,  and  seldom  referred  to  save 
by  their  sobriquets.  For  some  reason,  Captain  Wise  was 
called  "  Chinook."  Nobody  knew  exactly  why.  Among 
the  cadets,  every  man  of  prominence  had  a  nickname  : 
there  was  "Dad"  Wyatt,  so  called  for  age,  and  "Dad  " 
Nelson  for  extreme  youth,  and  "  Duck  "  Colonna  for  his 
short  legs,  and  "  Bull "  Temple  for  his  strength,  and 
"  Jane "  Creighton  for  his  gentleness,  and  so  on,  ad  in- 
finitum. Louis  and  I  escaped  naming  until  a  third  cadet 
of  our  name  arrived.  He  was  an  odd  fish,  a  cousin  of 
both  of  us,  who,  while  not  very  studious  in  things  taught 
there,  had  studied  "  The  Adventures  of  Simon  Suggs  " 
until  he  knew  them  by  heart,  and  quoted  them  on  all 
occasions.  He  soon  became  known  as  "  Suggs,"  and  the 
cognomen  spread  until  all  three  of  us  were  called  "  Suggs 
J.,"  "  Suggs  L.,"  and  "  Suggs  W.,"  as  if  we  never  had 
any  other  names.  One  day  the  corporal  of  the  guard 
reported  me  for  noise  on  the  stoop,  and  inadvertently 
entered  me  on  the  delinquent  list  as  "  Suggs  J."  The 
adjutant  knew  whom  he  meant,  but  reported  him  for 
carelessness. 

After  the  battle  of  Fredericksburg,  we  heard  all  about 
it  in  the  rooms  of  "  Old  Chinook,"  from  men  who  had 
participated  in  its  glories.  I  forget  who  they  were,  but 
it  was  probably  "  Sheep  "  Floweree  of  Mississippi,  or 
"  Bute  "  Henderson,  or  "  Tige  "  Hardin,  or  "  Marsh  "  Mc- 
Donald, all  of  whom,  at  one  time  or  another,  turned  up 


262  THE  END   OF  AN   ERA 

there.  To  the  outside  world,  they  were  colonels  and 
majors,  etc. :  at  the  Virginia  Military  Institute,  they 
were  "  Sheep  "  and  "  Bute  "  and  "  Tige."  Many  a  day, 
out  of  study  hours,  from  their  lips  we  would  drink  in 
the  story  of  the  repulse  of  Meagher's  Irish  Brigade  at 
Marye's  Heights,  or  how  Hayes  made  his  stand  at  Ham- 
ilton Crossing,  or  Pender  at  the  railroad,  or  how  Stuart's 
Horse  Artillery  raked  Franklin's  Corps  on  the  Rappa- 
hannock flats.  Very  few  boys  have  had  such  practical 
lessons  in  the  art  of  war. 

Poor  "  Chinook,"  who  longed  for  his  exchange,  and 
chafed  at  the  delays  which  made  him  miss  these  battles, 
looked  dreadfully  depressed,  and  as  for  ourselves,  Louis 
and  I  felt  it  was  an  outrage  that  we  were  penned  up 
and  kept  away  from  these  wondrous  sights  and  scenes. 

In  February,  we  had  a  cold,  hard  freeze  ;  all  drills 
were  suspended ;  the  North  River  was  hard-frozen.  At 
evening  parade  on  Friday,  an  order  was  published  an- 
nouncing that  a  supply  of  ice  for  the  following  summer 
was  most  desirable  ;  that,  owing  to  the  number  of  labor- 
ers who  had  volunteered,  the  superintendent  was  unable 
to  secure  the  necessary  force  to  save  the  ice-crop  ;  and 
that  every  cadet  who  would  volunteer  for  Saturday  to 
work  at  filling  the  ice-houses  of  the  Institute  should  have 
three  afternoons'  leave,  from  dinner  to  dress-parade,  the 
following  week,  for  skating.  At  the  call  for  volun- 
teers the  corps  stepped  to  the  front  as  one  man.  Of 
course  they  did ;  what  better  fun  than  that  did  anybody 
want  ? 

The  next  morning,  cadets  were  ordered  to  put  on  old 
clothes.  The  companies  were  divided  into  working 
squads,  and  marched  to  the  river.  We  had  all  the  saws, 
and  axes,  and  ice-hooks,  and  slides,  and  horses  we  needed. 
The  strongest  men  went  out  and  cut  the  ice  ;  the  smaller 


A  NEW   PHASE   OF  MILITARY   LIFE  263 

chaps  were  worked  in  teams,  with  ropes  to  secure  it  and 
drag  it  to  the  wagons.  Some  of  the  country  boys  were 
detailed  as  teamsters.  Squads  were  stationed  at  the  ice- 
houses to  receive  and  dump  the  loads.  Fires  were  built 
along  the  river  banks.  Those  drowsy  country  horses 
were  never  pushed  so  hard,  or  heard  the  whips  crack  so 
loudly,  as  they  did  that  day.  We  went  to  work  in  relays. 
"  Old  Spex  "  had  rations  and  hot  coffee  served  upon  the 
river  bank.  And  when  the  cold  sun  was  sinking  in  a 
red  western  sky,  the  corps,  its  work  completely  done, 
filled  with  joyous  anticipations  for  the  coming  week,  was 
trotting  homeward  across  the  bridge  at  a  double-quick, 
the  happiest,  jolliest  set  of  youngsters  in  the  Southern 
Confederacy. 

Then  came  the  skating  time.  News  of  our  holiday 
spread  over  the  town,  and  all  the  pretty  girls  in  Lexing- 
ton, and  many  of  the  citizens,  were  there  to  see  the 
sport. 

There  was  no  lack  of  skates  ;  the  arsenal,  long  since 
disappeared,  stood  in  the  barracks'  quadrangle  in  those 
days.  It  was  the  general  depository  of  all  the  things  left 
by  the  cadets  who  marched  to  the  war  in  1861.  I  fear 
little  regard  was  paid  to  their  vested  rights.  Nearly 
every  old  trunk  in  that  arsenal  had  by  this  time  been 
rifled.  Many  a  cadet  jacket  and  trousers,  left  there  by 
some  old  cadet  with  the  purpose  of  returning  for  it  some 
day,  had  been  "  appropriated  "  long  ago,  worn  out,  and 
traded  off  for  apples.  In  cadet  morals,  this  is  not  steal- 
ing. The  conditions  existing  there  at  any  time  amount 
almost  to  communism ;  at  the  period  referred  to,  the 
seizure  of  everything  required  was  justified  under  the 
plea  of  military  necessity.  Fortunately,  the  arsenal  was 
burned  by  General  Hunter  in  1864,  so  that  the  absent 
cadets   who  had   been  robbed  of   their  skates  doubtless 


264  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

thought  their  goods  were  destroyed  by  fate  of  war,  and 
never  knew  that  they  had  been  used  by  their  own  com- 
rades ;  else  had  there  been,  I  fear,  after  the  war,  grave 
charges  against  all  of  us. 

Among  the  debris  piled  helter-skelter  in  the  arsenal, 
after  the  sundry  pickings-over  to  which  its  contents  had 
been  subjected,  somebody  found  an  old  drum-major's 
shako,  relic  of  the  pomp  and  panoply  of  peace  times. 
The  first  appearance  of  this  shako  in  public  was  on  the 
head  of  a  long-legged  cadet,  who  wore  it  in  a  game  of 
shinny  at  our  ice  carnival.  It  was  not  long  before  a 
bandy-stick  knocked  his  shako  in  the  air.  That  was 
suo-o'estion  enough.  Soon  another  cadet  took  a  crack  at 
it,  and  its  wearer,  dodging  and  racing,  went  streaming 
away  with  fifty  fellows  following. 

Out  of  this  grew  a  famous  game  called  "  tapping  the 
shako."  Whoever  was  fast  enough  to  catch  the  wearer, 
and  tap  his  shako,  became  entitled  to  place  it  on  his 
head,  and  wear  it  until  a  fleeter-footed  skater  won  it  from 
him.  It  was  but  a  little  while,  of  course,  before  it  fell 
into  the  hands  of  the  best  skater  and  most  adroit  dodger 
in  the  corps  ;  and  then  the  concentrated  energies  of  a 
hundred  men  to  overhaul  its  owner  furnished  marvelous 
excitement  and  noble  sport.  In  one  of  these  contests,  the 
race  was  prolonged  almost,  if  not  quite,  to  Loch  Laird, 
five  miles  down  the  river.  The  sport  elicited  wonderful 
displays  of  endurance,  agility,  and  pluck. 

On  our  last  day,  we  gave  an  unexpected  exhibition. 
The  weather  had  moderated,  but  apparently  not  enough 
to  make  the  ice  dangerous.  In  fact,  however,  the  freeze 
had  been  so  sudden  that  the  ice  was  filled  with  air-holes. 
Our  great  game  had  now  been  regulated,  for  in  its  earlier 
stages  we  found  that  certain  cadets,  like  certain  hounds, 
instead  of  running  true  to  the  line,  woidd  wait  for   the 


A  NEW   PHASE   OF  MILITARY  LIFE  265 

quarry  to  double  and  then  take  a  .short  cross-cut  upon  him. 
So  we  staked  the  centre  of  the  river,  and  forced  every 
man  to  follow  the  course  if  he  claimed  a  touch.  This 
afternoon,  a  great  crowd  of  spectators  was  assembled ;  we 
had  had  a  glorious  breakaway,  and  the  old  black  shako,  on 
the  head  of  some  fleet-footed  fellow,  went  whirling  down 
the  river  with  the  pack  in  full  cry,  the  crowds  on  the 
banks  delighted.  For  a  little  while  the  chase  disappeared, 
and  then  came  back  on  the  near  side  of  the  stream, 
but  out  towards  the  centre.  The  boys  were  well  bunched  ; 
not  less  than  six  or  eight  were  close  upon  the  leader. 
The  race  grew  intensely  exciting ;  some  men  on  horse- 
back were  galloping  along  the  bank.  The  women  were 
waving  their  handkerchiefs  and  clapping  their  hands 
with  delight. 

The  closest  follower  made  a  fine  burst  of  speed,  had 
raised  his  stick  to  tap  the  shako,  when  crash  went  the  ice, 
and  both  men  disappeared,  the  old  black  shako  alone 
remaining  in  sight  floating  on  the  water.  A  wail  and 
screams  went  up  from  the  shore.  One  after  another  of 
those  in  hot  pursuit  plumped  into  the  hole  before  they 
could  check  their  headway,  and  in  another  moment  six 
or  eight  of  the  best  fellows  in  the  corps  were  floundering 
in  the  deep  water,  the  ice  at  the  edges  breaking  under 
them  at  each  attempt  they  made  to  scramble  out.  Then 
came  an  instance  of  the  power  of  discipline. 

A  number  of  us  smaller  boys  had'  not  followed  the 
chase  ;  as  soon  as  we  saw  the  accident,  we  hurried  towards 
the  scene.  No  doubt  further  misfortune  would  have  be- 
fallen us,  but  for  the  cool-headed  behavior  of  Sam 
Shriver,  a  second-class  man.  Darting  up  like  a  general, 
his  towering  figure  caught  all  eyes  as  he  said,  "  Atten- 
tion !  "     All  was  silence. 

"  Where  are  the  safety  ropes?"  he   demanded.     We 


266  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

had  had  them  all  the  time  until  now  ;  now,  when  we 
needed  them  most,  they  were  gone,  of  course.  He  never 
paused  a  second. 

Looking  to  the  hole  he  cried,  "  Hold  fast,  boys.  Don't 
exhaust  yourselves.     I  '11  have  you  out  in  a  moment." 

They  were  making  a  fearful  splutter  in  the  hole, 
some  calling  for  help,  some  swearing,  some  grunting,  and 
one,  as  we  afterwards  heard,  praying.  What  frightened 
Louis  and  myself  most  was  that  we  saw  dear  old  Colonna 
and  Dad  Nelson  in  there. 

Turning  to  us,  Shriver  said,  "  Form  a  line  —  quick !  " 
It  was  formed,  consisting  of  about  fifty  men. 
"  Let  the  far  end  of  the  line  get  well  ashore,"  said  he, 
and  it  was  there  in  a  jiffy.     "  Small  men  in  front,"  and 
small  men  came  to  the  front.     That  put  Louis  and  myself 
well  to  the  front. 

"  Lock  wrists,"  cried  Sam,  and  each  of  us  seized  the 
wrist  of  the  man  in  front  of  and  behind  us,  and  he  ours  ; 
we  stretched  out. 

"Advance  to  hole,"  said  he.  "Ten  front  files  lie 
down.  Rear  files  shove  away,"  said  he,  as  soon  as  we 
were  down. 

"  Louis,  we  're  in  for  it,"  said  I. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  he  replied.  "  We  '11  probably  break 
in,  but  if  we  connect  with  them,  the  rear  men  will  pull  us 
all  out  together."  So  they  shoved  us  over  the  ice  on  our 
stomachs  until  the  front  man  reached  the  nearest  fellow 
in  the  hole,  and  the  man  behind  him  fastened  to  him, 
and  so  on  until  all  were  firmly  clutched  together.  When 
all  those  in  the  hole  were  fast  to  each  other  firmly,  Sam 
gave  command,  "  Haul  away  slowly !  " 

As  the  rear  men  began  to  move  backward,  out  came 
the  first  man  from  the  hole,  and  the  next  and  the  next, 
and  then  their  weight  broke  the  ice  and  we  all  went  down 


A  NEW   PHASE   OF  MILITARY   LIFE  267 

together,  but  were  still  moving  shoreward,  while  Shriver 
called  to  us  not  to  let  our  hold  break.  Thus  dragged, 
we  soon  reached  the  sound  ice,  and  man  after  man  came 
up  and  out  of  the  water  until  all  were  saved,  by  the 
promptness  of  gallant  Sam  Shriver,  who  became  the  lion 
of  the  hour.  Men  never  hugged  each  other's  wrists  more 
tightly  than  did  we  that  day,  and  the  prints  of  fingers 
were  so  deep  on  my  wrisrs  I  thought  the  blood  would 
start  from  them. 

Cold  ?  It  was  fearful !  "  Old  Spex  "  had  witnessed  it 
all.  "  Double-quick  those  men  to  barracks,  Mr.  Shriver," 
said  he ;  "  I  '11  ride  forward  to  the  hospital  and  have  hot 
grog  served  to  them  when  they  are  well  rubbed  down. 
You  know  I  am  a  temperance  advocate,  but  this  is  medi- 
cine. Look  out  there  for  little  Nelson  and  Barton ;  they 
are  nearly  frozen."  With  that  he  managed  to  spur  his  fat 
sorrel  to  a  clumsy  trot,  and  we  went  jogging  back  to  bar- 
racks, warm  enough  by  the  time  we  reached  there,  but 
not  averse  to  the  china  mugs  of  steaming  whiskey  and 
ginger  which  were  served  from  a  tin  bucket  by  the 
hospital  steward.  Nobody  was  the  worse  for  it.  Is  it 
not  surprising  what  youngsters  of  that  age  can  stand  ? 

The  spring  of  1863  opened,  and  with  it  began  the  hard 
work,  first  in  company  and  then  in  battalion  drill.  Be- 
sides this,  the  period  of  examinations  was  approaching.  I 
had  been  neither  studious  nor  soldierly,  and  now,  after 
the  severe  drills,  it  was  difficult  to  bring  one's  self  down 
to  the  hard  study  necessary  to  pass  examinations.  More 
than  once  during  this  springtime  of  1863,  the  corps  had 
lost  valuable  time  from  study  in  attending  the  burial  of 
distinguished  officers,  —  first,  a  Captain  Davidson,  who 
had  fallen  with  great  distinction ;  then  General  Paxton, 
a  resident  of  Lexington  ;  and  lastly  came  an  announce- 
ment which  fell  like  a  pall  upon  the  school. 


268  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

Stonewall  Jackson  was  dead  !  Could  it  be  possible  ? 
We  had  believed  that  be  bore  a  charmed  life.  The  Insti- 
tute had  sent  a  host  of  magnificent  officers  to  the  front. 
There  were  Rhodes,  Mahone,  Lindsay,  Walker,  the  Pat- 
ton  brothers,  Lane,  Crutchfield,  McCausland,  Colston, 
and  many  others  of  lower  rank ;  but  "  Old  Jack  "  was, 
"  from  his  shoulders  and  upwards,  tallest  among  the 
people,"  in  the  estimation  of  the  cadets.  His  career  had 
not  only  been  surpassingly  brilliant,  but  it  was  altogether 
surprising. 

Of  the  old  Presbyterian  stock  of  the  valley,  his  people 
had  not  much  social  prominence,  and  he  had  gone  to 
West  Point  without  particular  advantages.  After  faith- 
ful but  not  exceptional  service  in  Mexico,  he  had  resigned 
from  the  army  and  assumed  a  professorship  here.  His 
presence  was  not  striking,  his  manners  were  not  attrac- 
tive, and  his  habits  were  so  eccentric  that  he  had  not 
ranked  high  as  a  professor ;  even  at  the  time  of  his  most 
astonishing  victories,  and  when  any  cadet  there  woidd 
have  given  all  he  possessed  to  be  with  him,  the  stories 
of  "  Old  Jack's  "  eccentricities  made  daily  sport  for  the 
cadets. 

For  example,  it  was  a  famous  joke  how,  when  he  had 
been  drilling  the  third  class  in  light  artillery,  with  the 
plebes  as  horses,  the  boys  had  drawn  the  linchpins  from 
the  cannon  wheels,  and,  as  the  guns  made  the  turn  near 
the  parapet,  the  wheels  had  come  off  and  sent  the  pieces 
tumbling  over  the  slope.  When  this  would  happen,  as 
it  often  did,  Major  Jackson  would  gallop  up,  look  ruefully 
down  the  slope,  and  remark,  without  the  slightest  suspi- 
cion: "There  must  be  something  defective  in  the  con- 
struction of  these  linchpins  ;  they  seem  inclined  to  fly  out 
whenever  the  pieces  in  rapid  motion  change  direction." 

He  was  not  very  friendly  with  General  Smith ;  it  was 


A  NEW   PHASE   OF  MILITARY   LIFE  269 

said  that  he  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  him,  except 
officially.  Professors  were  required  to  make  their  weekly 
report  to  the  superintendent  at  four  o'clock  Friday  after- 
noon. It  was  told  of  "  Old  Jack  "  that  Friday  afternoon, 
within  a  few  minutes  of  four  o'clock,  he  would  appear 
in  front  of  the  superintendent's  office  and  walk  up  and 
down  until  the  clock  struck  four.  It  made  no  difference 
whether  it  was  raining,  hailing,  snowing,  or  freezing,  he 
would  not  enter  until  the  clock  struck  ;  then,  with  mili- 
tary precision,  he  would  advance  to  the  office  of  the  super- 
intendent, salute,  lay  his  report  upon  the  table,  face 
about,  and  walk  out.  It  was  also  related  that  during  the 
recitations  he  was  frequently  occupied  in  rubbing  one 
side  of  himself,  under  the  impression,  confided  to  a  select 
few,  that  one  side  of  his  body  was  not  so  well  nourished 
as  the  other,  and  was  gradually  wasting  away. 

When  the  cadet  corps,  in  the  spring  of  1861,  was 
ordered  to  Camp  Lee  at  Richmond,  and  its  members  were 
put  to  drilling  recruits,  it  is  safe  to  say  that  as  little  was 
expected  of  Colonel  Jackson  as  of  any  member  of  the 
faculty.  Nobody  suspected  the  great  military  genius,  the 
untiring  energy,  the  marvelous  resourcefulness,  the  thirst- 
ing fury,  which  lurked  beneath  that  impassive  and  eccen- 
tric exterior. 

But  when  the  story  of  Manassas  came,  and  men  learned 
that  the  day  was  saved  by  Jackson,  standing  like  a  stone- 
wall ;  when,  in  his  independent  command,  he  fought  and 
won  the  battles  of  the  valley  campaign ;  when,  in  the 
seven  days'  fighting  at  Richmond,  he  threw  himself  upon 
the  flank  of  McClellan  ;  and  as  he  went  on  and  on,  mount- 
ing ever  upward,  until  he  became  Lee's  right  arm,  —  then 
the  men  who  had  known  him  only  as  an  odd  professor 
forgot  his  idiosyncrasies,  and  exulted  that  our  school  had 
furnished  the  paladin  of  the  Confederacy. 


270  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

It  was  a  bitter,  bitter  clay  of  mourning  for  all  of  us 
when  the  corps  was  marched  down  to  the  canal  terminus 
to  meet  all  that  was  mortal  of  Stonewall  Jackson.  We 
had  heard  the  name  of  every  officer  who  attended  the 
remains. 

With  reversed  arms  and  muffled  drums  we  bore  him 
back  to  the  Institute,  and  placed  him  in  the  section-room 
in  which  he  had  taught.  There  the  body  lay  in  state 
until  the  following  day.  The  lilacs  and  early  spring 
flowers  were  just  blooming.  The  number  of  people  who 
came  to  view  him  for  the  last  time  was  immense  :  men 
and  women  wept  over  his  bier  as  if  his  death  was  a  per- 
sonal affliction ;  then  I  saw  that  the  Presbyterians  could 
weep  like  other  folks.  The  flowers  piled  about  the  coffin 
hid  it  and  its  form  from  view.  I  shall  ever  count  it  a 
great  privilege  that  I  was  one  of  the  guard  who,  through 
the  silence  of  the  night,  and  when  the  crowds  had  de- 
parted, stood  watch  and  ward  alone  with  the  remains  of 
the  great  "  Stonewall." 

Next  day,  we  buried  him  with  pomp  of  woe,  the  cadets 
his  escort  of  honor :  with  minute-guns,  and  tolling  bells, 
and  most  impressive  circumstance,  we  bore  him  to  his 
rest.  But  those  ceremonies  were  to  me  far  less  impressive 
than  walking  post  in  that  bare  section-room,  in  the  still 
hours  of  night,  reflecting  that  there  lay  all  that  was  left 
of  one  whose  name  still  thrilled  the  world. 

The  burial  of  Stonewall  Jackson  made  a  deep  im- 
pression upon  the  corps  of  cadets.  It  had  been  our 
custom,  when  things  seemed  to  be  going  amiss  in  the 
army,  to  say,  "Wait  until  'Old  Jack'  gets  there;  he 
will  straighten  matters  out."  We  felt  that  the  loss  wrs 
irreparable.  The  cold  face  on  which  we  had  looked 
taught  us  lessons  which  have  been  dropped  from  the 
curriculum  in  these  tame  days  of  peace. 


A  NEW   PHASE  OF  MILITARY  LIFE  271 

Many  a  cadet  resolved  that  he  would  delay  no  longer 
in  offering  his  services  to  his  country,  and,  although  the 
end  of  the  session  was  near  at  hand,  several  refused  to 
remain  longer,  and  resigned  at  once. 

The  session  of  1862-63  was  drawing  rapidly  to  a  close. 
Louis  and  I  both  became  alarmed  about  passing  our 
examinations,  he  to  pass  to  the  second  class  and  I  to  the 
third.  I  had  nearly  the  limit  of  demerits,  for  besides 
other  weaknesses,  I  had  developed  a  love  affair  uptown 
with  a  pretty  little  Presbyterian,  and,  being  caught  out 
of  limits,  had  been  confined  to  barracks,  and  assigned 
to  several  extra  tours  of  guard  duty.  At  last  the  event- 
ful 4th  of  July  arrived,  the  day  on  which  the  gradu- 
ating class  receives  its  diplomas  and  class  standings,  and 
cadet  officers  for  the  ensuing  year  are  announced  ;  it  is 
also  the  day  when  the  band  plays  "  Auld  Lang  Syne,"  at 
hearing  which  a  rat  becomes  an  old  cadet. 

When  the  announcements  were  read  out,  Louis  and  I 
found  that  we  had  passed  our  classes  fairly  well,  but 
far  from  brilliantly  ;  when  it  came  to  publishing  commis- 
sioned officers  from  the  new  first  class,  our  old  friend  and 
room-mate,  Colonna,  moved  up  to  second  captain.  To 
our  agreeable  surprise,  Louis  received  a  good  sergeant's 
appointment.  I  was  left  a  private ;  I  deserved  it.  All 
those  most  interested  in  me  had  warned  me  such  would 
be  the  result  if  I  pursued  my  trifling,  heedless  course  ; 
and  now  I  stood  chagrined  and  crestfallen,  while  others 
received  the  honors.  Nevertheless,  I  acknowledged  to 
myself  that  it  was  just,  and  swallowed  whatever  disap- 
pointment I  felt,  inwardly  resolving,  however,  that  next 
year  should  tell  a  different  tale. 

Those  familiar  with  the  history  of  that  period  will  not 
forget  that  on  this  4th  of  July,  1863,  when  we  were 
engrossed  with  these  petty  concerns,  the  great  battle  of 


272  THE  END  OF  AN  ERA 

Gettysburg  was  being  fought,  and  the  surrender  of  Vicks- 
burg  was  taking  place. 

A  few  days  before  the  final  ceremonies,  we  had  gone 
into  camp  for  the  summer  in  a  grove  in  rear  of  the  super- 
intendent's house :  there  we  remained  for  two  months, 
chiefly  engaged  in  drilling  the  new  cadets.  It  was  a 
stupid  period  for  the  graduates,  and  several  of  the  sub-pro- 
fessors had  departed  for  the  war,  and  many  of  the  second- 
class  men  had  received  furloughs.  The  monotony  of 
camp  life  was  broken  in  the  latter  part  of  August,  when 
we  were  given  an  arduous  march  to  Covington  to  meet 
a  raiding  party  from  West  Virginia  under  General  Aver- 
ill  ;  but  the  general  had  displayed  great  good  sense,  as  we 
thought,  by  going  elsewhere  before  our  arrival. 

The  1st  of  September,  we  broke  camp,  returned  to  bar- 
racks, and  resumed  academic  duties  with  great  earnest- 
ness. 

I  keenly  realized  the  advantages  lost  by  the  trifling  of 
my  first  year,  and,  in  the  long  periods  for  reflection  in 
camp,  had  fully  determined  to  prove  myself  a  better  stu- 
dent and  soldier  than  I  had  yet  been.  It  is  well  enough 
to  have  people  laugh  at  one's  reckless  escapades  and  fool- 
ish antics,  but  those  things  count  against  a  fellow  when 
it  comes  to  choosing  the  boys  who  have  the  sterling  stuff 
in  them. 

Our  old  and  tried  mentor  Colonna,  being  now  an  offi- 
cer, had  gone  to  live  with  his  own  classmates  in  a  tower 
room.  Louis  and  I,  in  solemn  conclave,  selected  as  our 
room-mates  "  Squirrel  "  Overton,  "  Jack  "  Stanard,  and  a 
little  rat  named  Harris,  a  cousin  of  Overton.  In  these 
we  felt  we  had  an  earnest  set  of  room-mates,  and  we  re- 
solved that  there  was  to  be  no  more  skylarking,  no  more 
defiance  of  discipline,  and  a  strictly  moral  and  studious 
aggregation.     Then  came  the  sultry  June  days,  when  it 


A  NEW   PHASE  OF  MILITARY   LIFE  273 

was  work,  work,  work  at  books  preparing  for  examina- 
tions, and  drill,  drill,  drill  in  the  school  of  the  battalion. 

From  reveille  until  four  o'clock  p.  M.,  we  were  in  the 
section-room  reciting,  or  studying  in  our  quarters  on  re- 
view. At  four  o'clock,  the  battalion  was  formed  for  drill, 
and  exercised  in  the  hot  sun,  until  time  for  dress  parade, 
in  every  intricate  manoeuvre.  More  than  one  little  fellow 
fell  exhausted  from  the  intense  strain,  and  every  cadet 
in  the  corps  was  longing  for  the  time  when  our  arduous 
apprenticeship  would  end. 

One  hot,  steaming  evening,  Charley  Faulkner,  Phillips, 
and  I  sat  in  an  open  window  which  overlooked  the  parade 
ground.  It  was  during  the  half  hour  of  leisure  after 
dinner,  —  the  only  leisure  time  that  was  left  to  us.  The 
parade  ground  shimmered  with  the  noonday  heat.  Not  a 
leaf  of  the  guard-tree  was  shaken  by  the  slightest  breeze. 
We  were  commiserating  each  other  at  the  sweltering  pro- 
spect of  two  hours'  drill  in  a  tight-fitting  uniform  under 
the  rays  of  such  a  sun. 

"  It 's  brutal,"  exclaimed  Faulkner.  "  It 's  enough  to 
kill  a  man."     We  all  called  each  other  "  men." 

"  Yes,"  said  Phillips,  "  somebody  will  be  sunstruck. 
Poor  little  Jefferson  fainted  yesterday,  and  to-day  is 
worse." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  faint,  Reuben  ?  "  said  I.  "  Char- 
ley and  I  will  bring  you  off  the  field,  and  that  will  give  us 
all  a  rest." 

"  I  '11  '  cut '  with  you  two  fellows  which  shall  faint," 
said  Reuben.  All  matters  of  lot  were  decided  by  opening 
a  book,  and  the  second  letter,  second  line,  left-hand  page, 
decided  the  matter:  "  a  "  was  best,  and  "z"  was  worst. 
Down  came  the  book,  and  Reuben  cut  the  lowest  letter ; 
so  it  fell  to  him  to  faint,  and  to  us  to  bring  him  off  the 
field.     When  the  drill-drum  beat  that  afternoon,  we  fell 


274  THE   END   OF  AN  ERA 

in  line  with  Reuben  between  us.  As  the  company  was 
divided  into  platoons,  we  came  near  being  separated,  for 
Faulkner  was  last  man  in  our  platoon.  Breaking  the 
battalion  into  column  of  platoons,  Shipp  marched  us  to 
the  drill  grounds.  Oh,  it  was  hot,  —  hot  enough  to  dis- 
arm suspicion  at  anybody's  fainting. 

Through  all  the  evolutions  we  went,  —  "  Right  of  com- 
pany's rear  into  column  ;  "  "  Close  column  by  divisions 
on  second  division,  right  in  front ;  "  "  To  the  rear  by  the 
right  flank,  pass  the  defile,"  and  what  not.  The  file- 
closers  were  so  near  to  us  we  could  not  talk.  All  we 
could  do  was  to  nudge  Reuben,  and  we  began  to  think  he 
would  never  faint. 

At  last  Shipp  trotted  his  great  gray  horse  to  the  flank 
of  the  battalion,  and  gave  the  command,  "  Forward  into 
line,  —  forward  double  time,  —  march."  The  perspira- 
tion was  streaming  from  us. 

"  Now,  if  ever,  Reuben,"  I  whispered,  as  we  started  off ; 
and,  sure  enough,  Reuben  made  a  feint  of  stumbling,  his 
gun  pitched  forward  from  his  shoulder,  and  he  threw 
himself  forward  in  as  beautiful  a  faint  as  ever  was  feinted. 

"  Help  him  there,  Faulkner  and  Wise,"  said  the  left 
guide,  as  the  battalion  swept  on ;  and  Charley  and  I  bent 
over  him  with  infinite  tenderness  and  concern.  We  were 
about  to  pass  some  congratulations,  when  I  looked  up  and 
saw  Shipp  galloping,  warning  Phillips.  That  gave  him 
all  the  pallor  he  needed. 

"  Who  is  that  man  ?  "  said  the  major. 

"  Phillips,  sir,"  said  Faulkner  and  myself,  rising  and 
saluting. 

"  Is  he  seriously  ill  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  hope  not,  —  seems  to  be  overcome  by  heat." 

"  Eh !  take  him  to  barracks  and  summon  the  surgeon," 
said  he,  and,  roweling  the  old  gray,  he  galloped  back  to 


A  NEW  PHASE  OF  MILITARY  LIFE  275 

the  command.  He  did  not  order  ns  to  return,  so  Master 
*  aulkner  and  I  remained  in  barracks  to  nurse  the  invalid 
after  making  a  brave  show  of  his  helplessness  as  we' 
assisted  him  across  the  plain.  In  barracks,  we  at  once 
began  business.  Faulkner  hurried  to  the  hospital  for  a 
bucket  of  ice  for  the  invalid.  A  happy  thought  struck 
me  I  stole  around  behind  Colonel  Williamson's,  and 
milked  his  cow  into  our  drinking-pail.  We  three  then 
sat  up  in  a  quiet  room,  drinking  iced  milk,  watching  the 
battalion  drill.  & 

It  was  all  very  well  until  next  evening  parade,  when  we 
heard  ourselves  reported  for  not  returning  to  ranks,  and 
in  spite  of  some  very  plausible  excuses  given  to  the  com- 
mandant, five  more  demerits  were  added  to  our  already 
overflowing  score.  The  story  of  our  ruse  was  all  over  bar- 
racks, and  I  have  always  thought  it  had  reached  Shipp's 

pars  rr 


ears 


Whether  it  did  or  not,  I  had  by  this  time,  and  in  many 
ways,  become  known  to  the  superintendent  and  command- 
ant as  mixed  up  in,  and  capable  of,  any  sort  of  prank  or 
dereliction  which  took  place,  -a  reputation  by  no  means 
enviable,  let  me  assure  you. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

A   HUNT   AND   ALMOST   A   LICKING 

That  was  a  great  flight  of  wild  pigeons  in  the  Brushy 
Hills  in  the  autumn  of  1863,  and  nobody  ever  before  saw 
so  many  squirrels  there.  Louis  and  I  had  bee  ihaving 
well.  Our  class  standing  was  good,  and  our  conduct 
exemplary. 

We  found  it  easy  now  to  secure  spe^:;l  permits,  and 
for  privileges  were  content  to  apply  on  'Fridays  for  leave 
of  absence  from  Saturday  dinner  roll-call.  This  gave 
us  substantially  all  day  for  hunting.  General  Philip  St. 
George  Cocke,  a  wealthy  patron  of  the  school,  had  pre- 
sented to  it  a  stand  of  small  smooth-bore  muskets,  which 
we  found  to  be  excellent  fowling-pieces. 

At  this  period  of  the  war,  no  shot  were  purchasable  in 
stores.  The  devices  to  which  we  resorted  to  provide  shot 
may  be  interesting.  Our  lead  we  obtained  from  the  roof 
of  an  unoccupied  outhouse.  In  our  earlier  efforts,  we  beat 
the  lead  into  thin  sheets,  then  cut  it  into  narrow  strips, 
then  cross-cut  the  strips  into  cubes.  These  we  rolled  be- 
tween two  drawing-boards  until  the  pellets  were  approxi- 
mately round.  That  method  proving  slow,  we  shifted  to 
another.  We  obtained  a  piece  of  sheet  tin,  which  we 
perforated  with  small  nail-holes.  To  this  sheet  of  tin  we 
attached  a  long  handle.  Then  we  secured  a  brazier  with 
some  charcoal  and  a  ladle.  With  this  outfit  we  heated 
the  lead  on  the  brazier.  When  it  was  thoroughly  melted, 
one  man  poured  it  slowly  from  the  spoon  upon  the  sheet 


A  HUNT  AND  ALMOST  A  LICKING  277 

of  tin,  while  the  other  shook  the  tin  gently  over  a  bucket 
of  water.  The  lead  dropped  into  the  water  in  little  glob- 
ules, through  the  perforations  of  the  tin.  When  the 
operation  was  complete,  we  had  shot  shaped  like  exclama- 
tion-points. All  that  remained  was  to  cut  off  their  tails, 
and  this  we  did  with  a  patience  and  perseverance  worthy 
of  a  more  important  cause.  The  shot  were  heavier  than 
those  we  buy  in  stores,  and  very  deadly  in  their  effects. 

One  Friday  night  in  October,  1863,  we  had  obtained 
a  permit  r  to  be  absent  next  day  from  breakfast  roll-call 
until  drtss  parade.  We  had  been  so  pressed  with  aca- 
demic and  military  duties  that  we  had  not  manufactured 
our  supply  of  shot.  Conic  sections,  Livy,  and  surveying 
had  me  in  the*v  grip,  and  Louis  was  wrestling  with  cal- 
culus and  engineering.  Something  must  be  done,  or  our 
hunt,  so  cherished  in  anticipation,  would  fall  to  the  ground. 
True,  we  were  now  good  boys,  but  we  had  not  been  such 
so  long  that  our  old  tricks  were  forgotten.  In  the  busy 
days  preparatory  to  examinations,  a  favorite  method  of 
studying  out  of  hours  had  been  to  wait  until  after  taps 
inspection,  affix  blankets  around  the  sides  of  the  square 
oaken  table,  and,  crawling  under  the  table  with  a  candle, 
to  study  there  for  an  hour  or  two.  To-night  we  resolved 
to  utilize  that  device. 

It  is  providential  that  the  fumes  of  the  charcoal  in  the 
brazier  did  not  smother  us  both.  It  was  close  quarters 
under  there.  With  brazier,  bucket,  and  lead  spoon,  little 
room  was  left  for  the  workmen ;  but  we  made  famous 
progress.  Our  legs  stuck  out  under  the  blankets,  and 
now  and  again  we  would  pull  out,  or,  so  to  speak,  come  to 
the  surface,  and  have  a  breathing  spell.  Oblivious  of  all 
else,  and  unable  to  hear  outside  sounds,  we  had  nearly 
finished  our  task,  when  "  Rap,  rap,  rap  !  "  came  the  knock 
of  an  inspector  upon  our  door.     We  blew  out  the  light, 


278  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

and  drew  our  legs  inside,  but  the  brazier  sent  forth  a 
ruddy  glow  which  betrayed  us. 

"  Who  is  orderly  here  ?  "  asked  the  voice  of  a  sub- 
professor.  We  crawled  up,  red  and  begrimed.  "  What 
does  this  all  mean  ?  "  said  he. 

We  mumbled  out  some  explanations.  "  The  sentinel 
has  been  ordering  lights  out  in  this  room  for  five  min- 
utes," said  he  sternly.  I  glanced  at  the  confounded  blan- 
kets, and  saw  that  the  corner  of  one  of  them  had  been 
sagged  by  our  scrambling  about,  so  that  an  aperture  was 
left,  through  which  a  beam  of  light  went  straight  out  the 
glass  doorway  and  shone  upon  a  pillar  of  the  stoop,  mak- 
ing a  flaring  signal.  Coming  into  barracks  late,  the  offi- 
cer had  seen  it,  and  this  visit  was  the  result  of  our  calm 
disregard  of  repeated  cries  of  "Lights  out  in  28,"  which 
cries  we  had  not  heard. 

"  Take  that  fire  out  and  extinguish  it.  Open  the  win- 
dows, and  let  out  these  poisonous  gases.  It  is  a  mercy 
you  are  not  smothered  to  death,  and  that  the  barracks 
have  not  been  set  on  fire,"  said  the  officer,  as  he  departed. 

On  Monday  morning,  we  answered  to  the  following  re- 
ports :  "  Lights  up  after  taps  ;  repeated  disobedience  of 
orders  in  failing  to  extinguish  lights  ;  introducing  fire 
into  barracks."  We  expected  about  ten  demerits  each, 
to  say  nothing  of  extra  tours  and  confinement  to  limits. 
But  my  troubles  were  not  ended  with  this  episode.  The 
qimrtermaster's  store  was  only  opened  upon  Saturday 
after  breakfast.  It  was  essential  that  both  of  us  should 
have  certain  things  from  the  store  in  the  morning  before 
starting  on  our  hunt.  With  pass-books  in  hand,  the  cadets 
who  sought  supplies  formed  in  line,  and  were  admitted  to 
the  store  in  the  order  of  their  arrival.  That  we  might 
leave  as  early  as  possible,  Louis  and  I  cast  lots  to  decide 
which  should  remain  from  breakfast  with  the  pass-books 


A  HUNT  AND   ALMOST   A  LICKING  279 

and  get  near  the  store  door.  The  one  who  went  to  break- 
fast was  to  bring  the  other  man's  meal  buttoned  in  the 
breast  of  his  jacket.  The  lot  to  remain  fell  to  me.  When 
Louis  came  back  from  breakfast,  he  found  a  very  dam- 
aged-looking  comrade  in  our  room ;  and  this  is  how  it  all 
came  about :  — 

The  store  was  on  the  fourth  stoop,  in  a  large  room  over 
the  archway.  Only  six  or  eight  boys  had  remained  from 
breakfast.  I  was  fourth  or  fifth  in  line.  In  front  of  me 
were  three  plebes  and  an  old  cadet.  While  waiting,  a 
quarrel  arose  between  the  old  cadet  and  the  plebes  about 
their  respective  places  in  line.  The  old  cadet  insisted 
that  they  should  let  him  enter  first,  and  they  refused.  It 
was  a  cold,  gray  morning,  and  none  of  us  were  in  pleasant 
humor  at  being  kept  standing  there  shivering  during  the 
long  delay.  The  grumbling  went  on  between  them  until 
at  last  the  old  cadet  punched  the  little  fellow  in  front  of 
him  in  the  ribs,  and  butted  him  with  his  knees,  until  he 
began  to  cry.  The  boy's  name  was  Logan.  He  was  no 
match  for  his  antagonist.  It  was  a  mean  piece  of  bully- 
ing, and  such  as  no  old  cadet  had  the  right  to  indulge  in. 
The  old  cadet  had  been  there  two  years  already,  having 
been  found  deficient  the  previous  July  ;  so  that,  while 
we  were  both  now  third-class  men,  he  had  been  an  old 
cadet  when  I  was  a  plebe.  Our  class  relations  had 
been  friendly  enough,  and  at  last  I  ventured  to  remon- 
strate in  a  concilatory  way  with  him  about  his  cruelty  to 
Logan. 

To  my  surprise,  he  wheeled  about  and  said :  "  What 
have  you  got  to  do  with  it  ?  Maybe  you  want  to  take  the 
rat's  part.  Ever  since  you  came  here,  you  have  been  that 
way."  This  was  not  true,  for  I  had  been  a  terror  to 
plebes  in  camp. 

"  No,"    I    protested,  still   good-tempered.     "  But   you 


280  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

have  no  right  to  take  his  place  in  line,  and  he  is  too  small 
to  defend  himself." 

"  You  're  a  liar !  "  he  blurted  out. 

"  Don't  say  that,"  said  I.  "  You  and  I  are  friends. 
You  don't  mean  it,  and  will  be  sorry  when  you  are  cool." 

"  Yes,  I  do  mean  it !  "  shouted  he.  "  You  are  a  liar  ; 
and  you  sneaked  out  of  the  first  row  you  got  into  when 
you  came  here." 

He  proceeded  no  further  in  that  story.  I  popped  him 
in  the  eye  with  the  best  left-hander  I  could  plant ;  and  at 
it  we  went,  like  a  pair  of  jack-snappers,  the  plebes  dancing 
about  in  wonder.  He  had  a  great  reach.  He  fetched 
me  several  very  substantial  cracks.  Nevertheless,  the 
first  blow  I  hit  him  gave  me  a  decided  advantage,  and  I 
succeeded  in  closing  with  him  and  getting  his  head  in 
chancery.  Thus  holding  him,  I  punched  his  nose  and 
eyes  and  mouth  in  fine  form ;  but,  in  spite  of  all  I  could 
do,  I  felt  his  long,  sinewy  arm  steal  up  my  back,  and  his 
fingers  close  with  a  choking  grip  upon  my  collar.  Hug  ! 
I  hugged  his  head  with  all  my  might  and  main,  as  he 
tugged  to  extricate  himself. 

"  Stop  that  noise  on  fourth  stoop  !  "  shouted  the  sentry 
in  the  area,  time  and  time  again  ;  but  we  were  too  busy 
to  pay  attention  to  his  commands.  We  were  panting  like 
two  young  bucks  with  locked  horns.  Renewing  the 
whacking  at  his  head  under  my  arm,  I  asked,  "  Have  you 
got  enough  ?  "  I  knew  he  did  not  have  enough.  Still  I 
thought  it  would  do  no  harm  to  inquire. 

"  No  !  "  roared  he  ;  "  I  '11  give  you  enough  before  this 
thing  is  over."  With  that  I  slung  him  around  and  tried 
to  throw  him ;  but  his  bow-legs  seemed  set  as  firmly  as 
the  towers  of  the  arch.  I  not  only  found  that  he  could 
stand  punishment,  but  that  he  had  the  advantage  of  me 
in  wind. 


A  HUNT  AND   ALMOST  A  LICKING  281 

The  sentinel  shouted  for  the  officer  of  the  day,  and  the 
two  commanded,  "  Stop  that  noise  in  barracks  !  "  as  if 
their  throats  would  burst.  At  last,  with  a  supreme  effort, 
he  dragged  himself  out  from  under  my  arm,  whirled  me 
about,  seized  me  by  the  hair  with  both  hands,  dashed 
me  down  to  my  knees,  bumped  my  head  upon  the  frozen 
oak  planks,  and  kicked  me  in  the  face.  I  saw  a  thousand 
stars.     The  poor  little  rats  were  almost  frantic. 

"  Got  enough,  eh?  "  said  he  ironically,  as,  panting  from 
his  triumphant  efforts,  he  planted  me  a  savage  uppercut 
under  the  arm  with  which  I  was  trying  to  protect  my  face. 
p  Maybe  you  \e  got  enough  now  ?  " 

"  Not  much !  "  said  I,  trying  to  tear  loose  from  his  grip 
on  my  hair ;  but  down  I  went  again,  for  he  overmatched 
me.  Whack,  thump,  bang  !  he  began  afresh.  I  'm  glad 
I  don't  have  to  tell  how  that  fight  ended.  Thank  heaven, 
it  did  n't  end.  Just  as  matters  seemed  growing  desper- 
ate, the  officer  of  the  day,  with  jangling  sword,  came 
bounding  up  the  stairway  three  steps  at  a  time,  and, 
rushing  to  where  we  were  clinched,  he  caught  us  in  the 
collars  and  snatched  us  apart.  Holding  us  at  arm's  length, 
and  looking  at  us  covered  with  blood,  he  commanded  the 
peace,  and  ordered  us  to  our  rooms. 

My  adversary  walked  sulkily  away.  He  was  no  beauty. 
He  had  a  bulging  eye  like  a  crab,  and  some  of  his  teeth 
were  very  loose.  But  I  ?  My !  oh,  my  !  but  I  was  a 
physical  wreck.  My  jacket,  where  I  held  liis  head  so 
long,  was  fairly  soaked  with  gore.  Two  or  three  buttons 
were  torn  off,  and  my  collar  was  under  one  ear.  The 
toe  of  his  shoe  had  raked  off  about  an  inch  of  skin  from 
the  ridge  of  my  nose.  A  knot  as  large  as  a  pigeon's  egg 
was  on  my  forehead,  and  the  last  I  saw  of  him  he  was 
picking  my  hair  off  his  fingers. 

"  Carried  almost  too  many  guns  for  you,  did  n't  he  ?  " 


282  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

said  Shafer,  the  officer  of  the  day,  as  we  descended  to- 
gether. 

With  a  sickly  grin,  I  answered,  "  I  don't  know.  I 
was  doing  my  best.  But  I  'm  mighty  glad  you  came, 
Shafer." 

Then  the  kind  fellow,  who  evidently  sympathized  with 
my  side  of  the  story,  went  with  me  to  the  room  and 
helped  me  wash  up  and  preen  my  badly  ruffled  plumage. 
About  this  time,  we  heard  the  tramp  of  the  corps  return- 
ing ;  and  Louis,  who  had  heard  some  rumors  at  the  arch- 
way, rushed  up  to  know  what  it  was  all  about. 

"  Here,  take  the  pass-books.  Hurry,  and  you  '11  get  in 
line  in  time.     I  broke  up  the  waiting  line,"  said  I. 

"  Are  you  able  to  go  ?  "  asked  he. 

"  Of  course  I  am.  I  '11  go  to  the  hospital  with  the  sick- 
list  and  get  my  nose  patched  by  the  time  you  finish  at  the 
store.  Hurry !  "  So  off  he  darted,  and  I  fell  in  at  sick- 
call.  Thirty  minutes  later,  we  were  scampering  across  the 
hills  with  our  guns,  —  I  slightly  disfigured  by  a  long 
patch  of  adhesive  plaster  on  my  nose,  and  wearing  my 
cap  well  back,  to  avoid  contact  with  that  pigeon  egg  on 
my  forehead. 

And  a  great  day  we  had  of  it.  As  if  to  compensate  us 
for  our  tribulations,  we  struck  a  flight  of  pigeons  and 
found  numbers  of  squirrels.  In  fact,  we  killed  so  many 
that  we  found  it  necessary  to  sling  our  game  upon  a  pole, 
which  we  b^re  between  us  on  our  shoulders.  When  we 
appeared  in  barracks,  in  ample  time  for  dress-parade,  we 
were  the  envy  of  the  corps.  We  sent  a  nice  bunch  of 
game  to  the  superintendent's  wife.  Considering  the  great 
number  of  delinquencies  for  which  we  were  to  make  an- 
swer Monday  morning  to  the  commandant,  we  seriously 
debated  whether  it  would  be  counted  as  "  boot-licking," 
if  we  sent  some  of  our  game  to  the  officers'  mess.    "  Boot- 


A  HUNT   AND   ALMOST   A   LICKING  283 

licking,"  or  seeking  favor  with  officers,  was  looked  upon 
as  a  heinous  crime  in  our  code  of  deportment.  However, 
as  old  Chinook  belonged  to  the  officers'  mess,  we  con- 
cluded to  let  them  have  a  few.  Then  we  secured  permit 
for  private  breakfast  in  the  mess-hall  Sunday  morning, 
and  to  visit  old  Judge  at  the  kitchens  to  deliver  our 
game  and  make  preliminary  arrangements. 

With  invitations  sent  to  a  few  to  our  choice  symposium 
next  morning,  the  day's  work  was  complete.  We  made 
no  effort  that  night,  rest  assured,  to  keep  lights  up  after 
taps. 

We  came  out  of  our  troubles  better  than  we  expected. 
Shipp  possessed  excellent  good  sense  in  dealing  with 
cadets.  He  rather  sympathized  with  our  venial  struggles 
to  provide  ourselves  with  ammunition,  and  did  not  punish 
us  severely,  but  warned  us  against  fetching  fire  into  bar- 
racks. Shafer,  the  cadet  officer,  who  might  have  made  it 
go  hard  with  my  foeman  and  myself,  saw  him,  told  him 
he  was  wrong,  made  him  come  and  apologize  to  me,  and 
after  that  he  and  I  were  good  friends.  And  last,  but 
not  least,  little  Rat  Logan,  whose  pretty  sister  I  had  vis- 
ited in  their  home  at  "  Dungenness  "  upon  the  James, 
memory  of  whose  charms  had  probably  made  me  take  his 
part,  came  grinning  around  to  our  quarters  to  tell  us  he 
had  a  box  from  home.  He  said  it  was  poor  pay  for  the 
punishment  I  had  got  in  his  behalf.  I  suggested  that  he 
invite  my  antagonist  also  ;  but  he  swore  he  should  not 
have  as  much  as  a  wishbone  from  his  turkey.  We  made 
short  shrift  of  Logan's  box.  With  bayonets  we  ripped 
it  open.  Its  stores  of  turkey,  ham,  biscuits,  pickles,  pre- 
serves, and  what  not  were  soon  spread  before  us. 

The  best  simile  descriptive  of  cadets  around  a  box 
from  home  is  that  of  feeding  a  kennel  of  hounds.  With 
undisguised  impatience  they  watch  the  display  of  food. 


284  THE   END   OF  AN  ERA 

With  frank  gluttony  they  fall  upon  it.  With  pop-eyed 
satiety  they  turn  away  only  when  all  is  consumed.  And 
then  they  lie  about  in  semi-comatose  condition,  refusing 
to  attend  meals  until  nature  relieves  itself  of  overloading. 
Another  piece  of  good  luck  was  in  store  for  me.  I  had 
kept  the  pledge  about  demerits,  and  stood  well  at  the  Jan- 
uaiy  intermediate  examinations.  One  evening  at  dress 
parade,  I  had  the  unspeakable  joy  of  hearing  myself  an- 
nounced as  a  corporal,  "  vice  Vaughan,  resigned."  Those 
chevrons  were  veiy  stimulating.  I  even  remembered  that 
Napoleon  had  once  been  a  corporal. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE   MOST  GLORIOUS   DAY   OF  MY   LIFE 

In  the  spring  of  1864, 1  was  still  a  cadet  at  the  Virginia 
Military  Institute.  "  Unrest "  is  the  word  to  describe 
the  feeling  pervading  the  school. 

Rosser's  brigade  had  wintered  in  Rockbridge,  but  a  few 
miles  from  the  Institute.  Lexington  and  the  Institute 
were  constantly  visited  by  Rosser,  his  staff,  and  the  offi- 
cers of  his  brigade.  They  brought  us  in  touch  with  the 
war,  and  the  world  beyond,  more  than  anything  else  we 
had  seen.  They  jangled  their  spurs  through  the  arch- 
way, laughed  loudly  in  the  officers'  quarters,  and  rode  off 
as  if  they  carried  the  world  in  a  sling.  In  March,  they 
broke  camp,  and  came  ambling,  trotting,  galloping,  pran- 
cing past  the  Institute,  their  mounted  band  playing, 
their  little  guidons  fluttering,  bound  once  more  to  active 
duty  in  the  lower  valley.  Before  their  departure,  General 
Rosser  presented  a  captured  flag  to  the  corps  of  cadets. 
His  escort  on  the  occasion  was  decked  with  leaves  of 
mountain  laurel,  the  evergreen  badge  which  the  brigade 
had  adopted.  We  felt  ashamed  of  having  flags  captured 
for  us  by  others.  When  the  Laurel  Brigade  took  its  de- 
parture, many  a  cadet  followed  it  longingly  with  eyes  and 
heart. 

Then,  too,  we  heard  that  Grant  had  been  transferred  to 
command  in  the  East ;  and  we  all  knew  that  there  would 
be  great  fighting  at  the  front.  Many  cadets  resigned. 
Good  boys  became  bad  boys  for  the  express  purpose  of 


286  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

getting  "  shipped,"  parents  and  guardians  having  refused 
to  permit  them  to  resign. 

The  stage-coaches  for  the  railroad  stations  at  Goshen 
and  Staunton  stopped  at  the  sallyport  on  nearly  every 
trip  to  take  on  cadets  departing  for  the  front. 

Many  a  night,  sauntering  back  and  forth  on  the  sentry- 
beat  in  front  of  barracks,  catching  the  sounds  of  loud  talk 
and  laughter  from  the  officers'  quarters,  or  pondering  upon 
the  last  joyous  squad  of  cadets  who  had  scrambled  to  the 
top  of  the  departing  stage,  my  heart  longed  for  the  camp, 
and  I  wondered  if  my  time  would  ever  come.  I  was  now 
over  seventeen,  and  it  did  seem  to  me  that  I  was  old 
enough. 

The  proverb  saith,  "  All  things  come  to  him  who  waits." 

It  was  the  10th  of  May. 

Nature  bedecked  herself  that  springtime  in  her  loveliest 
garb.  Battalion  drill  had  begun  early,  and  the  corps  had 
never  been  more  proficient  at  this  season  of  the  year. 

The  parade  ground  was  firm  and  green.  The  trees 
were  clothed  in  the  full  livery  of  fresh  foliage.  The  sun 
shone  on  us  through  pellucid  air,  and  the  light  breath  of 
May  kissed  and  fluttered  our  white  colors,  which  were 
adorned  with  the  face  of  Washington. 

After  going  through  the  manoeuvres  of  battalion  drill, 
the  corps  was  drawn  up,  near  sundown,  for  dress  parade. 
It  was  the  time  of  year  when  townsfolk  drove  down,  and 
ranged  themselves  upon  the  avenue  to  witness  our  brave 
display  ;  and  groups  of  girls  in  filmy  garments  set  off  with 
bits  of  color  came  tripping  across  the  sod ;  and  children 
and  nurses  sat  about  the  benches  at  the  guard-tree. 

The  battalion  was  put  through  the  manual.  The  first 
sergeants  reported.  The  adjutant  read  his  orders.  The 
fifes  and  drums  played  down  the  line  in  slow  time,  and 
came  back  with   a  jolly,  rattling  air.     The  officers  ad- 


THE  MOST  GLORIOUS   DAY  OF  MY  LIFE        287 

vanced  to  music  and  saluted.  The  sun  sunk  beyond  the 
House  Mountain.  The  evening  gun  boomed  forth.  The 
garrison  flag  fell  lazily  from  its  peak  on  the  barracks' 
tower.  The  four  companies  went  springing  homeward  at 
double  time  to  the  gayest  tune  the  fifes  knew  how  to  play. 
Never  in  all  its  history  looked  Lexington  more  beautiful. 
Never  did  sense  of  secluded  peacefulness  rest  more 
soo'thingly  upon  her  population.  In  our  leisure  time  after 
supper,  the  cadets  strolled  back  and  forth  from  barracks 
to  the  limits  gate,  and  watched  the  full-orbed  moon  lift 
herself  over  the  mountains.  Perfume  was  in  the  air, 
silence  in  the  shadows.     Well  might  we  quote  :  — 

' '  How  beautiful  this  night ! 
The  balmiest  sigh  that  vernal  zephyrs  breathe  in  evening's  ear 
Were  discord  to  the  speaking  quietude 
That  wraps  this  moveless  scene.     Heaven's  ebon  vault, 
Bestudded  with  stars  unutterably  bright, 
Through  which  the  moon's  unclouded 
Splendor  rolls,  seems  like  a  canopy  which 
Love  hath  spread,  to  shelter  its 
Sleeping  world." 

And  so,  tranquil,  composed  by  the  delightful  scenes 
around  us,  three  hundred  of  us  closed  our  eyes  and  passed 
into  the  happy  dreams  of  youth  in  springtime. 

Hark  !  the  drums  are  beating.  Their  throbbing  bounds 
through  every  corner  of  the  barracks,  saying  to  the 
sleepers,  "  Be  up  and  doing."     It  is  the  long  roll. 

Long  roll  had  been  beaten  several  times  of  late,  some- 
times to  catch  absentees,  and  once  for  a  fire  in  the  town. 
Grumblingly  the  cadets  hurried  down  to  their  places  in 
the  ranks,  expecting  to  be  soon  dismissed  and  to  return 
to  their  beds.  A  group  of  officers,  intently  scanning  by 
the  light  of  a  lantern  a  paper  held  by  the  adjutant,  stood 
near  the  statue  of  George  Washington,  opposite  the  arch. 
The   companies  were  marched   together.     The  adjutant 


288  THE   END   OF   AN  ERA 

commanded  attention,  and  proceeded  to  read  the  orders  in 
his  hands. 

They  announced  that  the  enemy  in  heavy  force  was  ad- 
vancing up  the  Shenandoah  valley;  that  General  Lee 
could  not  spare  any  forces  to  meet  him;  that  General 
Breckinridge  had  been  ordered  to  assemble  troops  from 
southwestern  Virginia  and  elsewhere  at  Staunton;  and 
that  the  cadets  should  join  him  there  at  the  earliest  prac- 
ticable moment.  The  corps  was  ordered  to  march,  with 
four  companies  of  infantry  and  a  section  of  artillery,  by 
the  Staunton  pike,  at  break  of  day. 

First  sergeants  were  ordered  to  detail  eight  artillerists 
from  each  of  the  four  companies,  to  report  for  duty  im- 
mediately, and  man  a  section  of  artillery. 

As  these  orders  were  announced,  not  a  sound  was  heard 
from  the  boys  who  stood  there,  with  beating  hearts,  in  the 
military  posture  of  parade  rest. 

"  Parade  's  dismissed,"  piped  the  adjutant.  The  ser- 
geants side-stepped  us  to  our  respective  company  parades. 

Methinks  that  even  after  thirty-three  years  I  once  more 
hear  the  gamecock  voices  of  the  sergeants  detailing  their 
artillery  and  ammunition  squads,  and  ordering  us  to  ap- 
pear with  canteens,  haversacks,  and  blankets  at  four  A.  M. 
Still  silence  reigned.  Then,  as  company  after  company 
broke  ranks,  the  air  was  rent  with  wild  cheering  at  the 
thought  that  our  hour  was  come  at  last. 

Elsewhere  in  the  Confederacy,  death,  disaster,  disap- 
pointment may  have  by  this  time  chilled  the  ardor  of 
our  people,  but  here,  in  this  little  band  of  fledgelings, 
the  hope  of  battle  flamed  as  brightly  as  on  the  morning 
of  Manassas. 

We  breakfasted  by  candle-light,  and  filled  our  haver- 
sacks from  the  mess-hall  tables.  In  the  gray  of  morning, 
we  wound  down  the  hill  to  the  river,  tramped  heavily 


THE  MOST  GLORIOUS   DAY  OF  MY  LIFE        289 

across  the  bridge,  ascended  the  pike  beyond,  cheered  the 
fading  turrets  of  the  school ;  and  sunrise  found  us  going 
at  a  four-mile  gait  to  Staunton,  our  gallant  little  battery 
rumbling  behind. 

We  were  every  way  fitted  for  this  kind  of  work  by  our 
hard  drilling,  and  marched  into  Staunton  in  the  afternoon 
of  the  second  day,  showing  little  ill  effects  of  travel. 

Staunton,  small  as  it  is,  seemed  large  and  cosmopolitan 
after  our  long  confinement.  As  we  marched  past  a  female 
school,  every  window  of  which  was  filled  with  pretty  girls, 
the  fifes  were  laboring  away  at  "  The  Girl  I  Left  Behind 
Me."  There  was  no  need  for  the  girls  to  cry,  "  Fie ! 
fie  !  "  at  such  a  suggestion.  Not  one  of  us  were  thinking 
of  the  girls  we  left  behind  us.  The  girls  we  saw  before 
us  were  altogether  to  our  liking. 

We  found  a  pleasant  camping  ground  on  the  outskirts 
of  the  town,  and  thither  the  whole  population  flocked  for 
inspection  of  the  corps,  and  to  witness  dress  parade,  for 
our  fame  was  widespread.  The  attention  bestowed  upon 
the  cadets  was  enough  to  turn  the  heads  of  much  humbler 
persons  than  ourselves.  We  were  asked  to  visit  nearly 
every  house  in  town. 

Having  an  invitation  to  dine  at  the  home  of  a  friend, 
Louis  and  I  waded  in  a  creek  to  wash  the  mud  off  our 
shoes  and  trousers.  With  pocket-comb  and  glass  we  com- 
pleted our  toilet  in  a  fence-corner.  Then  we  walked  about 
until  our  garments  were  dry,  and  proceeded  to  meet  our 
engagement.     Everything  goes  in  war  time. 

At  night,  the  town  was  hilarious.  Several  dances  were 
arranged,  and,  as  dancing  was  a  cadet  accomplishment,  we 
were  in  our  element. 

The  adoration  bestowed  upon  us  by  young  girls  dis- 
gusted the  regular  officers.  Before  our  coming,  they  had 
had  things  all  their  own  way.    Now,  they  found  that  fierce 


290  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

mustaches  and  heavy  cavalry  boots  must  give  place  to  the 
downy  cheeks  and  merry,  twinkling  feet  we  brought  from 
Lexington.  A  big  blonde  captain,  who  was  wearing  a 
stunning  bunch  of  gilt  aiguillettes,  looked  as  if  he  would 
snap  my  head  off  when  I  trotted  up  and  whisked  his 
partner  away  from  him.  They  could  not  and  would  not 
understand  why  girls  preferred  these  little,  untitled  whip- 
persnappers  to  officers  of  distinction.  Veterans  forgot 
that  youth  loves  youth. 

Doubtless  some  feeling  of  this  sort  prompted  the  band 
of  a  regiment  of  grimy  veterans  to  strike  up  "  Rock-a-bye, 
Baby,"  when  the  cadets  marched  by  them.  Quick  as  sol- 
diers' love  of  fun,  the  men  took  up  the  air,  accompanying 
it  by  rocking  their  guns  in  their  arms  as  if  putting  them 
to  sleep.  It  produced  a  perfect  roar  of  amusement  with 
everybody  but  ourselves.     We  were  furious. 

All  this  on  the  eve  of  a  battle  ?  Yes,  of  course.  Why 
not  ?  To  be  sure,  everybody  knew  there  was  going  to  be  a 
fight.  That  was  what  we  came  for.  But  nobody  among 
us  knew  or  cared  just  when  or  where  it  was  coming  off. 
Life  is  too  full  of  trouble  for  petty  officers  or  privates,  or 
young  girls,  to  bother  themselves  hunting  up  such  dis- 
agreeable details  in  advance.  That  was  the  business  of 
generals.  They  were  to  have  all  the  glory ;  and  so  we 
were  willing  they  should  have  all  the  solicitude,  anxiety, 
and  preoccupation. 

At  dress  parade,  May  12,  orders  were  read  for  the  move- 
ment of  the  army  down  the  valley  the  following  morning. 
We  always  moved  on  time.  Now,  who  would  have  be- 
lieved that  a  number  of  girls  were  up  to  see  us  off,  or  that 
two  or  three  were  crying?  Yet  it  was  so.  And  quick 
work  of  the  naked  boy  with  the  cross-bow  I  call  that. 

As  we  passed  some  slaughter-pens  on  the  outskirts,  an 
old  Irish  butcher,  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  hung  over  his  gate, 


THE  MOST  GLORIOUS   DAY   OF  MY  LIFE        291 

pipe  in  mouth.  With  a  twinkle  in  his  eye  he  watched 
the  corps  go  by,  at  last  exclaiming,  "  Begorra,  an'  it 's  no 
purtier  dhrove  av  pigs  hev  passed  this  gate  since  this 
hog-killing  began." 

We  made  a  good  day's  march,  and  camped  that  night 
near  Harrisonburg.  During  the  day,  we  met  several 
couriers  bearing  dispatches ;  they  reported  the  enemy 
advancing  in  heavy  force,  and  had  left  him  near  Stras- 
burg  and  Woodstock. 

Pressing  on  through  Harrisonburg,  which  we  reached 
early  in  the  morning,  we  camped  the  second  night  at 
Lacy's  Springs,  in  Shenandoah  ;  rain  had  set  in,  but  the 
boys  stood  up  well  to  their  work,  and  but  few  lame-ducks 
had  succumbed. 

Evidences  of  the  approach  of  the  enemy  multiplied 
on  the  second  day.  We  passed  a  great  many  vehicles 
coming  up  the  valley  with  people  and  farm  products  and 
household  effects,  and  a  number  of  herds  of  cattle  and 
other  livestock,  all  escaping  from  the  Union  troops ; 
now  and  then  a  weary  or  wounded  cavalryman  came  by. 
Their  reports  were  that  Sigel's  steady  advance  was  only 
delayed  by  a  thin  line  of  cavalry  skirmishers,  who  had 
been  ordered  to  retard  him  as  best  they  could  until 
Breckinridge  could  march  his  army  down  to  meet  him. 

Towards  evening,  we  came  to  a  stone  church  and  spring, 
where  a  cavalry  detail  with  a  squad  of  Union  prisoners 
were  resting  ;  the  prisoners  were  a  gross,  surly-looking 
lot  of  Germans,  who  could  not  speak  English.  They 
evidently  could  not  make  us  out ;  they  watched  us  with 
manifest  curiosity,  and  talked  in  unintelligible,  guttural 
sounds  among  themselves. 

When  we  reached  camp,  the  rain  had  stopped  and  the 
clouds  had  lifted,  but  everything  was  wet  and  gummy. 
To  add  to  my  disgust,  I  was  detailed  as  corporal  of  the 


292  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

guard,  which  meant  loss  of  sleep  at  night,  and  a  lone- 
some time  next  day  with  the  wagons  in  rear  of  the  corps. 

Looking  down  the  valley,  as  evening  closed  in,  we  could 
see  a  line  of  bivouac  fires,  and  were  uncertain  whether 
they  were  lit  by  our  own  pickets  or  by  the  enemy.  At 
any  rate,  we  were  getting  sufficiently  near  to  the  gentle- 
men for  whom  we  were  seeking  to  feel  reasonably  cer- 
tain we  should  meet  them. 

Night  closed  in  upon  us  ;  for  a  little  while  the  wood- 
land resounded  with  the  axe-stroke,  or  the  cheery  halloos 
of  the  men  from  camp-fire  to  camp-fire ;  for  a  while  the 
fire-lights  danced,  the  air  laden  with  the  odor  of  cooking 
food  ;  for  a  while  the  boys  stood  around  the  camp-fires 
for  warmth  and  to  dry  their  wet  clothing ;  but  soon  all 
had  wrapped  their  blankets  around  them  and  laid  down 
in  silence,  unbroken  save  by  the  champing  of  the  colo- 
nel's horse  upon  his  provender,  or  the  fall  of  a  passing 
shower. 

I  was  on  duty  as  corporal  of  the  guard  ;  a  sentry  stood 
post  near  the  pike ;  the  remainder  of  the  guard  and  the 
musicians  were  stretched  before  the  watch-fire  asleep.  It 
was  my  part  to  remain  awake,  and  a  very  lonesome,  cheer- 
less task  it  was,  sitting  there  in  the  darkness,  under  the 
dancing  shadows  of  the  wide-spreading  trees,  watching  the 
fagots  flame  up  and  die  out,  speculating  upon  the  events 
of  the  morrow. 

An  hour  past  midnight,  the  sound  of  hoofs  upon  the 
pike  caught  my  ear,  and  in  a  few  moments  the  challenge 
of  the  sentry  summoned  me.  The  newcomer  was  an 
aid-de-camp,  bearing  orders  for  Colonel  Shipp  from  the 
commanding  general.  When  I  aroused  the  commandant, 
he  struggled  up,  rubbed  his  eyes,  muttered  something 
about  moving  at  once,  and  ordered  me  to  arouse  the 
camp  without  having  the  drums  beaten.     Orders  to  fall 


THE  MOST  GLORIOUS   DAY   OF  MY   LIFE        293 

in  were  promptly  given,  rolls  were  rattled  off,  the  battal- 
ion was  formed,  and  we  debouched  upon  the  pike,  head- 
ing in  the  darkness  and  mud  for  Newmarket. 

Before  the  command  to  march  was  given,  a  thing 
occurred  which  made  a  deep  impression  upon  us  all,  —  a 
thing  which  even  now  may  be  a  solace  to  those  whose 
boys  died  so  gloriously  that  day.  In  the  gloom  of  the 
night,  Captain  Frank  Preston,  neither  afraid  nor  ashamed 
to  pray,  sent  up  an  appeal  to  God  for  his  protection  of 
our  little  band :  it  was  a  humble,  earnest  petition,  that  sunk 
into  the  heart  of  every  hearer.  Few  were  the  dry  eyes, 
little  the  frivolity,  when  he  had  ceased  to  speak  of  home, 
of  father,  of  mother,  of  country,  of  victory  and  defeat, 
of  life,  of  death,  of  eternity.  Captain  Preston  had  been 
an  officer  in  Stonewall  Jackson's  command ;  had  lost  an 
arm  at  Winchester ;  was  on  the  retired  list ;  and  was  sub- 
professor  of  Latin,  and  tactical  officer  of  B  Company : 
he  was  a  typical  Valley  Presbyterian.  Those  who,  a  few 
hours  later,  saw  him  commanding  his  company  in  the 
thickest  of  the  fight,  his  already  empty  sleeve  attesting 
that  he  was  no  stranger  to  the  perilous  edge  of  battle, 
realized  fully  the  beauty  of  the  lines  which  tell  that  "  the 
bravest  are  the  tenderest,  the  loving  are  the  daring." 

Day  broke  gray  and  gloomy  upon  us  toiling  onward  in 
the  mud.  The  sober  course  of  our  reflections  was  relieved 
by  the  light-heartedness  of  the  veterans.  We  overtook 
Wharton's  Brigade,  with  smiling  "  Old  Gabe,"  a  Vir- 
ginia Military  Institute  boy,  at  their  head.  They  were 
squatting  by  the  roadside,  cooking  breakfast,  as  we  came 
up.  With  many  good-natured  gibes  they  restored  our 
confidence  ;  they  seemed  as  merry,  nonchalant,  and  indif- 
ferent to  the  coming  fight  as  if  it  were  their  daily  occupa- 
tion. A  tall,  round-shouldered  fellow,  whose  legs  seemed 
almost   split  up  to  his  shoulder-blades,  came  among  us 


294  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

with  a  pair  of  shears  and  a  pack  of  playing  cards,  offer- 
ing to  take  our  names  and  cut  off  love-locks  to  be  sent 
home  after  we  were  dead;  another  inquired  if  we  wanted 
rosewood  coffins,  satin-lined,  with  name  and  age  on  the 
plate.  In  a  word,  they  made  us  ashamed  of  the  depress- 
ing solemnity  of  our  last  six  miles  of  marching,  and 
renewed  within  our  breasts  the  true  dare-devil  spirit  of 
soldiery. 

Resuming  the  march,  the  mile-posts  numbered  four, 
three,  two,  one  mile  to  Newmarket ;  then  the  mounted 
skirmishers  hurried  past  us  to  their  position  at  the  front. 
We  heard  loud  cheering  at  the  rear,  which  was  caught 
up  by  the  troops  along  the  line  of  march.  We  learned 
its  import  as  General  John  C.  Breckinridge  and  staff 
approached,  and  we  joined  heartily  in  the  cheering  as 
that  soldierly  man,  mounted  magnificently,  galloped  past, 
uncovered,  bowing,  and  riding  like  a  Cid.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  exaggerate  the  gallant  appearance  of  General 
Breckinridge.  In  stature  he  was  considerably  over  six 
feet  high.  He  sat  his  blood-bay  thoroughbred  as  if  he  had 
been  born  on  horseback ;  his  head  was  of  noble  mould, 
and  a  piercing  eye  and  a  long,  dark,  drooping  mustache 
completed  a  faultless  military  presence. 

Deployed  along  the  crest  of  an  elevation  in  our  front, 
we  could  see  our  line  of  mounted  pickets  and  the  smoul- 
dering fires  of  their  last  night's  bivouac.  We  halted  at 
a  point  where  passing  a  slight  turn  in  the  road  would 
bring  us  in  full  view  of  the  position  of  the  enemy. 
Echols's  and  Wharton's  brigades  hurried  past  us  ;  this 
time  there  was  not  much  bantering  between  us.  "  For- 
ward !  "  was  the  word  once  more,  and,  turning  the  point 
in  the  road,  Newmarket  was  in  full  view,  and  the  whole 
position  was  displayed. 

At  this  point,  a  bold  range  of  hills  on  the  left  parallel 


THE   MOST  GLORIOUS  DAY   OF  MY  LIFE        295 

with  the  mountains  divided  the  Shenandoah  valley  into 
two  smaller  valleys ;  in  the  easternmost  of  these  lies 
Newmarket.  The  valley  pike  on  which  we  had  advanced 
passes  through  the  town  parallel  with  the  Massanunten 
Mountains  on  our  right,  and  Smith's  Creek,  coursing 
along  its  base.  The  hills  on  our  left,  as  they  near  the 
town,  slope  down  to  it  from  south  and  west,  and  swell 
beyond  it  to  the  west  and  north.  Through  this  depres- 
sion from  the  town  to  the  Shenandoah  River  in  the 
western  valley  runs  a  transverse  road  with  heavy  stone 
walls.  Between  the  pike  by  which  we  were  advancing 
and  the  creek  at  the  base  of  the  mountains  lies  a  beauti- 
ful strip  of  meadowland,  extending  to  and  beyond  the 
village  of  Newmarket ;  on  these  meadows,  in  the  outskirts 
of  the  village,  were  orchards,  where  the  enemy's  skir- 
mishers were  posted,  his  left  wing  being  concealed  in  the 
village.  The  right  wing  of  the  enemy  was  posted  behind 
the  heavy  stone  fence  in  the  road  running  westward  from 
the  town,  parallel  with  our  line  of  battle.  Behind  the 
infantry,  on  the  slope  of  the  rising  ground,  the  Union 
artillery  was  posted :  the  ground  rose  behind  this  posi- 
tion until  a  short  distance  beyond  the  town ;  to  the  left 
of  the  pike  it  spread  out  in  an  elevated  plateau.  The 
hillsides  from  this  plateau  to  the  pike  were  broken  by 
several  gullies,  heavily  wooded  by  scrub  cedar. 

It  was  Sunday  morning  at  eleven  o'clock.  In  a  pictur- 
esque little  Lutheran  churchyard,  under  the  very  shadow 
of  the  village  spire  and  among  the  white  tombstones,  a 
six-gun  battery  was  posted  in  rear  of  the  infantry  lines 
of  the  enemy.  Firing  over  the  heads  of  their  own  troops, 
that  battery  opened  upon  us  the  moment  we  came  in 
sight. 

Away  off  to  the  right,  in  the  Luray  Gap,  we  could  see 
our  signal  corps  telegraphing  the  position  and  numbers  of 


296  THE   END   OF   AN  ERA 

the  enemy.  Our  cavalry  was  galloping  to  the  cover  of  the 
creek  to  attempt  to  turn  the  enemy's  left  flank.  Echols's 
brigade,  moving  from  the  pike  at  a  double-quick  by  the 
right  flank,  went  into  line  of  battle  across  the  meadow, 
its  left  resting  on  the  pike.  Simultaneously  its  skirmish- 
ers were  thrown  forward  at  a  run  and  engaged  the  enemy. 
Out  of  the  orchards  and  on  the  meadows,  puff  after  puff 
of  blue  smoke  rose  as  the  sharpshooters  advanced,  the  pop, 
pop,  pop  of  their  rifles  ringing  forth  excitingly.  Thun- 
dering down  the  pike  came  McLaughlin  with  his  artillery. 
Wheeling  out  upon  the  meadows,  he  swung  into  battery, 
action  left,  and  let  fly  with  all  his  guns. 

The  cadet  section  of  artillery  pressed  d< —  -*V  "  :ke  a 
little  farther,  turned  to  the  left,  toiled  up  the  slope  in 
front  of  us,  and,  going  into  position,  delivered  a  plunging 
fire  in  reply  to  the  Federal  battery  in  the  graveyard.  We 
counted  it  a  good  omen  when,  at  the  first  discharge  of 
our  little  guns,  a  beautiful  blue-white  wreath  of  smoke 
shot  upward  and  hovered  over  them.  The  town,  which 
a  moment  before  had  seemed  to  sleep  so  peacefully  upon 
that  Sabbath  morning,  was  now  wrapped  in  battle  smoke 
and  swarming  with  troops  hurrying  to  their  position. 
We  had  their  range  beautifully.  Every  shell  hit  some 
obstruction,  and  exploded  in  the  streets  or  on  the  hill- 
sides. Every  man  in  our  army  was  in  sight.  Every  posi- 
tion of  the  enemy  was  plainly  visible.  His  numbers  were 
uncomfortably  large  ;  for,  notwithstanding  his  line  of 
battle  already  formed  seemed  equal  to  our  own,  the  pike 
beyond  the  town  was  still  filled  with  his  infantry. 

Our  left  wing  consisted  of  Wharton's  brigade  ;  our 
centre,  of  the  62d  Virginia  infantry  and  the  cadet  corps  ; 
our  right,  of  Echols's  brigade  and  the  cavalry.  Until 
now,  as  corporal  of  the  guard,  I  had  remained  in  charge 
of  the  baggage-wagon   with   a   detail   of  three   men,  — 


THE  MOST  GLORIOUS   DAY   OF  MY  LIFE        297 

Redwood,  Stanard,  and  Woodlief.  My  orders  were  to 
remain  with  the  wagons  at  the  bend  in  the  pike  unless  we 
were  driven  back.  In  that  case,  we  were  to  retire  to  a 
point  of  safety. 

When  it  was  clear  that  the  battle  was  imminent,  one 
thought  took  possession  of  me,  and  that  was,  if  I  sat  on 
a  baggage  wagon  while  the  corps  of  cadets  was  in  its 
first,  perhaps  its  only  engagement,  I  should  never  be  able 
to  look  my  father  in  the  face  again.  He  was  a  grim  old 
fighter,  at  that  moment  resisting  the  advance  on  Peters- 
burg, and  holding  the  enemy  in  check  until  Lee's  army 
could  come  up.  I  had  annoyed  him  with  importunities 
for ;p/%""^ico''>^  *o  leave  the  Institute  and  enter  the  army. 
If,  now1  that  I  had  the  opportunity  vo  fight,  I  should  fail 
to  do  so,  I  knew  what  was  in  store  for  me,  for  he  had  a 
tongue  of  satire  and  ridicule  like  a  lash  of  scorpions. 

Napoleon  in  Egypt,  pointing  to  the  Pyramids,  told  his 
soldiers  that  from  their  heights  forty  centuries  looked 
down  upon  them.  The  oration  I  delivered  from  the  tail- 
board of  a  wagon  was  not  so  hyperbolical,  but  was  equally 
emphatic.  It  ran  about  this  wise  :  "  Boys,  the  enemy  is 
in  our  front.  The  corps  is  going  into  action.  I  like  fight- 
ing no  better  than  anybody  else.  But  I  have  an  enemy 
in  my  rear  as  dreadful  as  any  before  us.  If  I  should  re- 
turn home  and  tell  my  father  that  I  was  on  the  baggage 
guard  when  the  cadets  were  in  battle,  I  know  what  my 
fate  would  be.  He  would  kill  me  with  ridicule,  which  is 
worse  than  bullets.  I  intend  to  join  the  command  at 
once.  Any  of  you  who  think  your  duty  requires  you  to 
remain  may  do  so." 

All  the  guard  followed.  We  left  the  wagon  in  charge 
of  the  black  driver.  Of  the  four  who  thus  went,  one  was 
killed  and  two  were  wounded.  We  overtook  the  battalion 
as  it  deployed  by  the  left  flank  from  the  pike.     Moving 


298  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

at  double-quick,  we  were  in  an  instant  in  line  of  battle, 
our  right  resting  near  the  turnpike.  Rising  ground  in 
our  immediate  front  concealed  us  from  the  enemy. 

The  command  was  given  to  strip  for  action.  Knap- 
sacks, blankets,  —  everything  but  guns,  canteens,  and  car- 
tridge-boxes, was  thrown  upon  the  ground.  Our  boys 
were  silent  then.  Every  lip  was  tightly  drawn,  every 
cheek  was  pale,  but  not  with  fear.  With  a  peculiar,  ner- 
vous jerk,  we  pulled  our  cartridge-boxes  round  to  the 
front,  laid  back  the  flaps,  and  tightened  belts.  Whistling 
rifled  shells  screamed  over  us,  as,  tipping  the  hill-crest  in 
our  front,  they  bounded  past.  To  our  right,  across  the 
pike,  Patton's  brigade  was  lying  down  abreast  of  us. 

"  At-ten-tion-n-n  !  Battalion  forward  !  Guide  cen- 
ter-r-r !  "  shouted  Shipp,  and  up  the  slope  we  started. 
From  the  left  of  the  line,  Sergeant-Major  Woodbridge 
ran  out  and  posted  himself  forty  paces  in  advance  of  the 
colors  as  directing  guide,  as  if  we  had  been  upon  the  drill 
ground.  That  boy  would  have  remained  there,  had  not 
Shipp  ordered  him  back  to  his  post ;  for  this  was  no 
dress  parade.  Brave  Evans,  standing  six  feet  two,  shook 
out  the  colors  that  for  days  had  hung  limp  and  bedrag- 
gled about  the  staff,  and  every  cadet  leaped  forward, 
dressing  to  the  ensign,  elate  and  thrilling  with  the  con- 
sciousness that  this  was  war. 

Moving  up  to  the  hill  crest  in  our  front,  we  were 
abreast  of  our  smoking  battery,  and  uncovered  to  the 
range  of  the  enemy's  guns.  We  were  pressing  towards 
him  at  "  arms  port,"  moving  with  the  light  tripping  gate 
of  the  French  infantry.  The  enemy's  veteran  artillery 
soon  obtained  our  range,  and  began  to  drop  his  shells 
under  our  very  noses  along  the  slope.  Echols's  brigade 
rose  up,  and  was  charging  on  our  right  with  the  well- 
known  rebel  yell. 


THE  MOST  GLORIOUS  DAY  OF  MY  LIFE        299 

Down  the  green  slope  we  went,  answering  the  wild  cry 
of  our  comrades  as  their  muskets  rattled  out  in  opening 
volleys.  "  Double  i^'me  !  "  shouted  Shipp,  and  we  broke 
into  a  long  trot.  In  another  moment,  a  pelting  rain  of 
lead  would  fall  upon  us  from  the  blue  line  in  our  front. 

Then  came  a  sound  more  stunning  than  thunder.  It 
burst  directly  in  my  face :  lightnings  leaped,  fire  flashed, 
the  earth  rocked,  the  sky  whirled  round.  I  stumbled,  my 
gun  pitched  forward,  and  I  fell  upon  my  knees.  Ser- 
geant Cabell  looked  back  at  me  pityingly  and  called  out, 
"  Close  up,  men  !  "  as  he  passed  on.     I  knew  no  more. 

When  consciousness  returned,  the  rain  was  falling  in 
torrents.  I  was  lying  upon  the  ground,  which  all  about 
was  torn  and  ploughed  with  shell,  and  they  were  still 
screeching  in  the  air  and  bounding  on  the  earth.  Poor 
little  Captain  Hill,  the  tactical  officer  of  C  Company,  was 
lying  near  me  bathed  in  blood,  with  a  frightful  gash  over 
the  temple,  and  was  gasping  like  a  dying  fish.  Cadets 
Reed,  Merritt,  and  another,  whose  name  I  forget,  were 
near  at  hand,  badly  shot.  The  battalion  was  three  hun- 
dred yards  in  advance  of  us,  clouded  in  low-lying  smoke 
and  hotly  engaged.  They  had  crossed  the  lane  which  the 
enemy  had  held,  and  the  Federal  battery  in  the  grave- 
yard had  fallen  back  to  the  high  ground  beyond.  "  How 
came  they  there  ?  "  I  thought,  "  and  why  am  I  here  ?  " 
Then  I  found  I  was  bleeding  from  a  long  and  ugly  gash 
in  the  head.  That  rifled  shell,  bursting  in  our  faces, 
had  brought  down  five  of  us.  "  Hurrah  !  "  I  thought, 
"  youth's  dream  is  realized  at  last.  I  've  got  a  wound, 
and  am  not  dead  yet." 

Another  moment  found  me  on  my  feet,  trudging  along 
to  the  hospital,  almost  whistling  at  thought  that  the  next 
mail  would  carry  the  news  to  the  folks  at  home,  with  a 
taunting  suggestion  that,  after  all   the  pains  they  had 


300  THE  END  OF  AN  ERA 

taken,  they  had  been  unable  to  keep  me  out  of  my  share 
in  the  fun.  From  this  time  forth,  I  may  speak  of  the 
gallant  behavior  of  the  cadets  wither  the  imputation  of 
vanity,  for  I  was  no  longer  a  participant  in  their  glory. 

The  righting  around  the  town  was  fierce  and  bloody  on 
our  left  wing.  On  the  right,  the  movements  of  Echols 
and  Patton  were  very  effective.  They  had  pressed  for- 
ward  and  gained  the  village,  and  our  line  was  now  con- 
cave, with  its  angle  just  beyond  the  town. 

The  Federal  infantry  had  fallen  back  to  the  second 
line,  and  our  left  had  now  before  it  the  task  of  ascending 
the  slope  to  the  crest  of  the  hill  where  the  enemy  was 
posted.  After  pausing  under  the  cover  of  the  deep  lane 
to  breathe  awhile  and  correct  the  alignment,  our  troops 
once  more  advanced,  clambering  up  the  bank  and  over 
the  stone  fence,  at  once  delivering  and  receiving  a  wither- 
ing fire. 

At  a  point  below  the  town  where  the  turnpike  makes  a 
bend,  the  cavalry  of  the  enemy  was  massed.  A  momen- 
tary confusion  on  our  right,  as  our  troops  pressed  through 
the  streets  of  Newmarket,  gave  invitation  for  a  charge  of 
the  Union  cavalry.  They  did  not  see  McLaughlin's  bat- 
tery, which  had  been  moved  up,  unlimbered  in  the  streets, 
and  double-shotted  with  grape  and  canister.  The  enemy's 
cavalry  dashed  forward  in  column  of  platoons.  Our 
infantry  scrambled  over  the  fences  and  gave  the  artillery 
a  fair  opportunity  to  rake  them.  They  saw  the  trap  too 
late  ;  they  drew  up  and  sought  to  wheel  about. 

Heavens!  what  a  blizzard  McLaughlin  gave  them! 
They  staggered,  wheeled,  and  fled.  The  road  was  filled 
with  fallen  men  and  horses.  A  few  riderless  steeds  came 
galloping  towards  our  lines,  neighed,  circled,  and  rejoined 
their  comrades.  One  daring  fellow,  whose  horse  became 
unmanageable,  rode  straight  at  our  battery  at  full  speed, 


THE   MOST  GLORIOUS   DAY   OF  MY  LIFE        301 

passed  beyond,  behind,  and  around  our  line,  and  safely 
rejoined  his  comrades,  cheered  for  his  courage  by  his  ene- 
mies.    This  was  the  end  of  the  cavalry  in  that  fight. 

Meanwhile,  the  troops  upon  our  left  performed  their 
allotted  task.  Up  the  slope,  right  up  to  the  second  line 
of  infantry,  they  went ;  a  second  time  the  Federal  troops 
were  forced  to  retire.  Wharton's  brigade  secured  two 
guns  of  the  battery,  and  the  remaining  four  galloped  back 
to  a  new  position  in  a  farmyard  on  the  plateau,  at  the 
head  of  the  cedar-skirted  gully.  Our  boys  had  captured 
over  one  hundred  prisoners.  Charlie  Faulkner,  now  the 
Senator  from  West  Virginia,  came  back  radiant  in  charge 
of  twenty-three  Germans  large  enough  to  swallow  him, 
and  insisted  that  he  and  Winder  Garrett  had  captured 
them  unaided.  Bloody  work  had  been  done.  The  space 
between  the  enemy's  old  and  new  position  was  dotted  with 
dead  and  wounded,  shot  as  they  retired  across  the  open 
field  ;  but  this  same  exposed  ground  now  lay  before,  and 
must  be  crossed  by  our  own  men,  under  a  galling  fire 
from  a  strong  and  well-protected  position.  The  distance 
was  not  great,  but  the  ground  to  be  traversed  was  a  level 
green  field  of  young  wheat. 

Again  the  advance  was  ordered.  Our  boys  responded 
with  a  cheer.  Poor  fellows !  They  had  already  been  put 
upon  their  mettle  in  two  assaults,  exhausted,  wet  to  the 
skin,  muddy  to  their  eyebrows  with  the  stiff  clay  ;  some 
of  them  actually  shoeless  after  struggling  across  the 
ploughed  field  :  they,  notwithstanding,  advanced  with  tre- 
mendous earnestness,  for  the  shout  on  our  right  advised 
them  that  the  victory  was  being  won. 

But  the  foe  in  our  front  was  far  from  whipped.  As 
the  cadets  came  on  with  a  dash,  he  stood  his  ground  most 
courageously.  The  battery,  now  shotted  with  shrapnel 
and  canister,  opened  upon  the  cadets  with  a  murderous 


302  THE  END   OF  AN  ERA 

fire.  The  infantry,  lying  behind  fence-rails  piled  upon 
the  ground,  poured  in  a  steady,  deadly  volley.  At  one 
discharge,  Cabell,  first  sergeant  of  D  Company,  by  whose 
side  I  had  marched  for  months,  fell  dead,  and  with  him 
fell  Crockett  and  Jones.  A  blanket  would  have  covered 
the  three.  They  were  awfully  mangled  by  the  canister. 
A  few  steps  further  on,  McDowell  sank  to  his  knees  with 
a  bullet  through  his  heart.  Atwill,  Jefferson,  and  Wheel- 
wright were  shot  at  this  point.  Sam  Shriver,  cadet  cap- 
tain of  C  Company,  had  his  sword  arm  broken  by  a  minie 
ball.  Thus  C  Company  lost  her  cadet  as  well  as  her  pro- 
fessor captain. 

The  men  were  falling  right  and  left.  The  veterans  on 
the  right  of  the  cadets  seemed  to  waver.  Colonel  Shipp 
went  down.  For  the  first  time,  the  cadets  appeared  irre- 
solute. Some  one  cried  out,  "  Lie  down  !  "  and  all  obeyed, 
firing  from  the  knee,  —  all  but  Evans,  the  ensign,  who 
was  standing  bolt  upright,  shouting  and  waving  the  flag. 
Some  one  exclaimed,  "Fall  back  and  rally  on  Edgar's 
battalion  !  "  Several  boys  moved  as  if  to  obey.  Pizzini, 
first  sergeant  of  B  Company,  with  his  Corsican  blood  at 
the  boiling  point,  cocked  his  rifle  and  proclaimed  that  he 
would  shoot  the  first  man  who  ran.  Preston,  brave  and 
inspiring,  in  command  of  B  Company,  smilingly  lay  down 
upon  his  remaining  arm  with  the  remark  that  he  would  at 
least  save  that.  Colonna,  cadet  captain  of  D,  was  speak- 
ing low  to  the  men  of  his  company  with  words  of  encour- 
agement, and  bidding  them  shoot  close.  The  corps  was 
being  decimated. 

Manifestly,  they  must  charge  or  fall  back.  And  charge 
it  was  ;  for  at  that  moment  Henry  Wise,  "  Old  Chinook," 
beloved  of  every  boy  in  the  command,  sprang  to  his  feet, 
shouted  out  the  command  to  rise  up  and  charge,  and, 
moving  in  advance  of  the  line,  led  the  cadet  corps  forward 


THE  MOST  GLORIOUS  DAY  OF  MY  LIFE        303 

to  the  guns.  The  battery  was  being  served  superbly.  The 
musketry  fairly  rolled,  but  the  cadets  never  faltered. 
They  reached  the  firm  greensward  of  the  farmyard  in 
which  the  guns  were  planted.  The  Federal  infantry 
began  to  break  and  run  behind  the  buildings.  Before  the 
order  to  limber  up  could  be  obeyed  by  the  artillerymen, 
the  cadets  disabled  the  teams,  and  were  close  upon  the 
guns.  The  gunners  dropped  their  sponges,  and  sought 
safety  in  flight.  Lieutenant  Hannah  hammered  a  gunner 
over  the  head  with  his  cadet  sword.  Winder  Garret  out- 
ran another  and  lunged  his  bayonet  into  him.  The  boys 
leaped  upon  the  guns,  and  the  battery  was  theirs.  Evans, 
the  color-sergeant,  stood  wildly  waving  the  cadet  colors 
from  the  top  of  a  caisson. 

A  straggling  fire  of  infantry  was  still  kept  up  from  the 
gully  now  on  our  right  flank,  notwithstanding  the  masses 
of  blue  retiring  in  confusion  down  the  hill.  The  battal- 
ion was  ordered  to  reform,  mark  time,  and  half  wheel  to 
the  right ;  then  it  advanced,  firing  into  the  cedars  as  it 
went,  and  did  not  pause  again  until  it  reached  the  pike, 
having  driven  the  last  of  the  enemy  from  the  thicket. 
The  broken  columns  of  the  enemy  could  be  seen  hurrying 
over  the  hills  and  down  the  pike  towards  Mount  Jackson, 
hotly  pressed  by  our  infantry  and  cavalry.  Our  artillery 
galloped  to  Rude's  Hill,  whence  it  shelled  the  flying  foe 
until  they  passed  beyond  the  burning  bridge  that  spanned 
the  Shenandoah  at  Mount  Jackson. 

We  had  won  a  victory,  —  not  a  Manassas  or  an  Appo- 
mattox, but,  for  all  that,  a  right  comforting  bit  of  news 
went  up  the  pike  that  night  to  General  Lee,  whose 
thoughts,  doubtless,  from  where  he  lay  locked  in  the 
death-grapple  with  Grant  in  the  Wilderness,  turned  wea- 
rily and  anxiously  towards  this  attempted  flank  movement 
in  the  valley. 


304  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

The  pursuit  down  the  pike  was  more  like  a  foot-race 
than  a  march ;  our  fellows  straggled  badly ;  everybody 
realized  that  the  fight  was  over,  and  many  were  too  ex- 
hausted to  proceed  farther. 

As  evening  fell,  the  clouds  passed  away,  the  sun  came 
forth ;  and,  when  night  closed  in,  no  sound  disturbed  the 
Sabbath  calm  save  that  of  a  solitary  Napoleon  gun 
pounding  away  at  the  smouldering  ruins  of  the  bridge. 
Our  picket-fires  were  lit  that  night  at  beautiful  Mount 
Airy,  while  the  main  body  of  our  troops  bivouacked  on 
the  pike,  a  mile  below  Newmarket.  Out  of  a  corps  of 
225  men,  we  had  lost  fifty-six,  killed  and  wounded. 
Strange  to  say,  but  one  man  of  the  artillery  detail  re- 
ceived a  wound.  Shortly  before  sundown,  after  having 
my  head  sewed  up  and  bandaged,  and  having  rendered 
such  service  as  I  could  to  wounded  comrades,  I  sallied 
forth  to  procure  a  blanket  and  see  what  was  to  be  seen. 
When  we  stripped  for  action,  we  left  our  traps  unguarded; 
nobody  would  consent  to  be  detailed.  As  a  result,  the 
camp-followers  had  made  away  with  nearly  all  of  our 
blankets. 

I  entered  the  town,  and  found  it  filled  with  soldiers, 
laughing  and  carousing  as  light-heartedly  as  if  it  was  a 
feast  or  a  holiday.  In  a  side  street,  a  great  throng  of 
Federal  prisoners  was  corralled ;  they  were  nearly  all 
Germans.  Every  type  of  prisoner  was  there  ;  some  cheer- 
ful, some  defiant,  some  careless,  some  calm  and  dejected. 
One  fellow  in  particular  afforded  great  merriment  by  his 
quaint  recital  of  the  manner  of  his  capture.  Said  he, 
"  Dem  leetle  tevils  mit  der  vite  vlag  vas  doo  mutch  fur 
us ;  dey  shoost  smash  mine  head  ven  I  was  cry  zurrender 
all  de  dime."  A  loud  peal  of  laughter  went  up  from  the 
bystanders,  among  whom  I  recognized  several  cadets. 
His  allusion    to   the  white   flajr  was  to  our  colors.     We 


THE  MOST  GLORIOUS  DAY  OF  MY  LIFE        305 

had  a  handsome  corps  flag,  with  a  white  and  gold  ground 
and  a  picture  of  Washington  ;  it  disconcerted  our  adver- 
saries not  a  little.  Several,  whom  I  have  met  since  then, 
tell  me  that  they  could  not  make  us  out  at  all,  as  our 
strange  colors,  diminutive  size,  and  unusual  precision  of 
movement  made  them  think  we  must  be  some  foreign 
mercenary  regulars. 

While  standing  there,  my  old  partner  Louis  came  run- 
ning up,  exclaiming,  "  Holloa  !  Golly,  I  am  glad  it  is  no 
worse  ;  they  said  your  head  was  knocked  off."  Then  he 
held  up  his  bandaged  forearm,  in  which  he  had  a  pretty 
little  wound.  "  Say,  are  you  hungry  ?  There  is  an  old 
lady  round  here  on  the  back  street  just  shoveling  out 
pies  and  things  to  the  soldiers." 

Louis  and  I  were  both  good  foragers,  so  away  we  scam- 
pered, and  relieved  the  dear  old  soul  of  a  few  more  of 
her  apparently  inexhaustible  supply.  Then  we  started  off 
to  hunt  up  Henry.  We  had  a  good  joke  on  him,  but 
were  afraid  to  tell  it  to  him.  Several  of  the  cadets  de- 
clared that,  notwithstanding  his  piety,  he  had  at  the 
pinch  in  the  wheatfield,  when  he  ordered  the  charge,  so 
far  forgotten  himself  that  he  used  some  very  plain  old 
English  expletives,  as  in  days  of  yore.  When  we  ventured 
to  suggest  it,  he  grew  indignant,  and  he  was  such  a  se- 
rious fellow  that  we  were  afraid  to  press  him  about  it ; 
when  we  found  him,  he  gave  us  lots  of  sport.  He  was  very 
tall  and  very  thin.  He  had  gone  into  action  wearing  the 
long-tailed  coat  of  a  Confederate  captain.  In  the  last 
charge,  an  unexploded  canister  had  literally  carried  away 
his  hind  coat-tails  and  the  pipe  and  tobacco  in  the  pockets, 
without  touching  him.  Probably  he  was  so  close  to  the 
guns  that  the  bands  of  the  canister  had  not  burst  when 
it  passed  him.  However  this  may  have  been,  when  we 
found  him,  his  coat-tails  were  hanging  in  short  shreds 


306  THE  END  OF  AN  ERA 

behind,  while  in  front  they  were  intact.  He  was  involun- 
tarily feeling  behind  him,  bemoaning  the  loss  of  his  pipe 
and  tobacco,  and  looked  like  a  Shanghai  rooster  with  his 
tail-feathers  pulled  out. 

The  jeers  and  banterings  of  the  veterans  had  now 
ceased  ;  we  had  fairly  won  our  spurs.  We  could  mingle 
with  them  fraternally  and  discuss  the  battle  on  equal 
terms:  glorious  fellows  those  veterans  were.  To  them 
was  due  ninety-nine  one-hundredths  of  the  glory  of  the 
victory,  yet  they  seemed  to  delight  in  giving  all  praise  to 
"  dem  leetle  tevils  mit  der  vite  vlag."  The  ladies  of  the 
place  also  overwhelmed  us  with  tenderness,  and  as  for 
ourselves,  we  drank  in  greedily  the  praise  which  made  us 
the  lions  of  the  hour. 

Leaving  the  village,  we  sought  the  plateau  where  most 
of  our  losses  had  occurred.  A  little  above  the  town,  in 
the  fatal  wheatfield,  we  came  upon  tne  dead  bodies  of 
three  cadets ;  one  wearing  the  chevrons  of  a  first  sergeant 
lay  upon  his  face,  stiff  and  stark,  with  outstretched  arms. 
His  hands  had  clutched  and  torn  up  great  tufts  of  soil 
and  grass.  His  lips  were  retracted ;  his  teeth  tightly 
locked;  his  face  as  hard  as  flint,  with  staring,  glassy 
eyes.  It  was  difficult  indeed  to  recognize  that  this  was 
all  that  remained  of  Cabell,  who  a  few  hours  before  had 
stood  first  in  his  class,  second  as  a  soldier,  and  the  peer 
of  any  boy  in  the  command  in  every  trait  of  physical  and 
moral  manliness.  A  short  distance  removed  from  the 
spot  where  Cabell  fell,  and  nearer  to  the  position  of  the 
enemy,  lay  McDowell.  It  was  a  sight  to  rend  one's 
heart !  That  little  fellow  was  lying  there  asleep,  more 
fit  indeed  for  a  cradle  than  a  grave ;  he  was  about  my 
own  age,  not  large,  and  by  no  means  robust.  He  was  a 
North  Carolinian ;  he  had  torn  open  his  jacket  and  shirt, 
and  even  in  death,  lay  clutching  them  back,  exposing  a 


THE   MOST  GLORIOUS   DAY   OF  MY  LIFE        307 

fair,  white  breast  with  its  red  wound.     We  had  come  too 
late :   Stanard  had  breathed  his  last  but  a  few  moments 
before  we  reached  the  old  farmhouse  where  the  battery 
had   stood,  now  used    as  a  hospital.     His   body  was  still 
warm,  and  his  last  messages  had  been  words  of  love  to  his 
room-mates.     Poor  Jack,  —  playmate,  room-mate,  friend, 
—  farewell !     Standing  there,  my  mind  sped  back  to  the 
old  scenes  at  Lexington  when  we  were  shooting  together 
in   the  brushy  hills  ;    to  our  games  and  sports  ;    to  the 
night  we  had  gone  to  see  him  kneel  at  the  chancel  for 
confirmation;    to  the   previous  night    at  the  guard-fire, 
when  he  confessed  to   a  presentiment  that  he  would  be 
killed  ;  to  his  wistful,  earnest  farewell  when  we  parted  at 
the   baggage-wagon   that   morning;  and   my   heart  half 
reproached  me  for  my  part  in  drawing  him  into  the  fight. 
The  warm  tears  of  youthful  friendship  came  welling  up 
to  the  eyes  of  both  of  us  for  one  we  had  learned  to  love 
as  a  brother ;    and  now,  thirty-four  years  later,  I  thank 
God  life's  bufferings  and  the  cold-heartedness   of  later 
struggles  have  not  yet  diminished  the   pure   evidence  of 
boyhood's  friendship.    A  truer-hearted,  braver,  better  fel- 
low never  lived  than  Jacquelin  B.  Stanard. 

A  few  of  us  brought  up  a  limber  chest,  threw  our  dead 
across  it,  and  bore  their  remains  to  a  deserted  storehouse 
in  the  village.  The  next  day,  we  buried  them  with  the 
honors  of  war,  bowed  down  with  grief  at  a  victory  so 
dearly  bought. 

The  day  following  that,  we  started  on  our  return  march 
up  the  valley,  crestfallen  and  dejected.  The  joy  of  vic- 
tory was  forgotten  in  distress  for  the  friends  and  com- 
rades dead  and  maimed.  We  were  still  young  in  the 
ghastly  game,  but  we  proved  apt  scholars. 

On  our  march  up  the  valley,  we  were  not  hailed  as  sor- 
rowing friends,  but  greeted  as  heroes  and  victors.     At 


308  THE   END   OF  AN  ERA 

Harrisonburg,  Staunton,  Charlottesville,  —  everywhere, 
an  ovation  awaited  us  such  as  we  had  not  dreamed  of, 
and  such  as  has  seldom  greeted  any  troops.  The  dead  and 
the  poor  fellows  still  tossing  on  cots  of  fever  and  delirium 
were  almost  forgotten  by  the  selfish  comrades  whose 
fame  their  blood  had  bought.  We  were  ordered  to  Rich- 
mond :  all  our  sadness  disappeared.  What  mattered  it 
to  us  that  we  were  packed  into  freight-cars  ?  it  was  great 
sport  riding  on  the  tops  of  the  cars.  We  were  side- 
tracked at  Ashland,  and  there,  lying  on  the  ground  by 
the  side  of  us,  was  Stonewall  Jackson's  division.  We 
had  heard  of  them,  and  looked  upon  them  as  the  greatest 
soldiers  that  ever  went  into  battle.  What  flattered  us 
most  was  that  they  had  heard  of  us. 

While  waiting  at  Ashland,  a  very  distinguished-looking 
surgeon  entered  the  car,  inquiring  for  some  cadet.  He 
was  just  returning  from  the  battlefield  of  Spotsylvania. 
I  heard  with  absorbed  interest  his  account  of  the  terrible 
carnage  there ;  and  when  he  said  he  had  seen  a  small  tree 
within  the  "  bloody  angle  "  cut  down  by  bullets,  I  turned 
to  Louis  and  said,  "  I  think  that  old  fellow  is  drawing 
a  longbow."  The  person  speaking  was  Dr.  Charles  Mc- 
Gill.  I  afterwards  learned  that  what  he  said  was  liter- 
ally true. 

At  the  very  time  when  we  were  lying  there  at  Ashland, 
the  armies  of  Grant  and  Lee,  moving  by  the  flank,  were 
passing  the  one  all  about  us,  the  other  within  a  few  miles 
of  us,  from  the  battlefields  of  Spotsylvania  Court  House 
and  Milford  Station  to  their  ghastly  field  of  second  Cold 
Harbor.  We  could  distinctly  hear  the  firing  in  our 
front.  We  reached  Richmond  that  afternoon,  and  were 
quartered  in  one  of  the  buildings  of  the  Fair  Grounds, 
known  as  Camp  Lee.  It  is  impossible  to  describe  the 
enthusiasm  with  which  we  were  received. 


THE  MOST  GLORIOUS  DAY   OF  MY  LIFE        309 

A  week  after  the  battle  of  Newmarket,  the  cadet  corps, 
garlanded,  cheered  by  ten  thousand  throats,  intoxicated 
with  praise  unstinted,  wheeled  proudly  around  the  Wash- 
ington monument  at  Richmond,  to  pass  in  review  before 
the  President  of  the  Confederate  States,  to  hear  a  speech 
of  commendation  from  his  lips,  and  to  receive  a  stand  of 
colors  from  the  Governor  of  Virginia. 

No  wonder  that  our  band,  as  we  marched  back  to  our 
quarters,  played  lustily :  — 

"  There  's  not  a  trade  that 's  going 
Worth  showing  or  knowing, 
Like  that  from  glory  growing 
For  the  bowld  soldier  boy. 
For  to  right  or  left  you  go, 
Sure  you  know,  friend  or  foe, 
He  is  hound  to  be  a  beau, 
Your  bowld  soldier  boy." 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  GRUB  BECOMES  A  BUTTERFLY 

After  a  few  days  in  Richmond,  the  cadets  were 
ordered  back  to  Lexington.  We  resumed  academic 
duties  promptly,  and  were  just  beginning  to  settle  down 
to  hard  work,  when  General  Hunter  advanced  up  the 
valley  of  the  Shenandoah,  unopposed  save  by  a  small 
cavalry  force  under  General  McCausland. 

McCausland  was  another  Virginia  Military  Institute 
graduate.  "  Well,"  said  we,  when  we  heard  the  news, 
"  we  '11  have  to  whip  'em  again."  But  this  time  the  story 
was  to  be  very  different  from  the  last.  Following  almost 
immediately  upon  the  heels  of  the  first  announcement 
came  the  alarming  statement  that  Hunter  had  reached 
Staunton,  but  thirty-six  miles  to  the  north  of  us ;  and 
the  next  day  we  were  advised  that  he  had  not  paused  in 
Staunton,  but  pressed  on,  and  that  his  advance  was  skir- 
mishing with  McCausland  at  Midway,  but  twelve  miles 
from  Lexington. 

Resistance  to  a  force  like  Hunter's  being  out  of  the 
question,  we  were  ordered  to  prepare  for  the  evacuation 
of  Lexington.  A  detail  of  sappers  was  sent  forthwith  to 
the  bridge  across  the  North  River,  with  directions  to  load 
it  with  bales  of  hay  saturated  with  turpentine,  leaving 
space  just  sufficient  for  the  passage  of  McCausland's 
retreating  forces.  We  were  kept  under  arms  all  night. 
Before  sunrise,  the  main  body  of  our  troops  came  stream- 
ing down  the  hills  across  the  river;  and,  half  a  mile  be- 


THE   GRUB   BECOMES   A   BUTTERFLY  311 

hind  them,  their  rear  guard  emerged  from  the  woods  along 
the  hill-tops,  skirmishing  with,  and  hotly  pressed  by,  the 
enemy.  At  the  river,  after  crossing  the  bridge,  McCaus- 
land  deployed  a  force  upon  the  bluffs  above  and  below 
the  bridge,  to  cover  the  crossing  of  his  rear  guard. 

The  rear  guard,  called  in,  rallied  at  a  run  to  the  bridge ; 
and  the  Union  skirmishers,  emboldened  by  their  quick 
movements,  dashed  after  them  down  the  hills.  Coming 
too  near  to  the  force  behind  the  bluffs,  they  were  com- 
pelled to  retreat  under  a  heavy  fire  upon  Hunter's  ad- 
vance guard,  which  was  now  coming  up.  A  battery  of 
Union  artillery,  under  Captain  Henry  Du  Pont,  galloped 
out  upon  the  hills  overlooking  Lexington  from  the  north 
side  of  the  river,  and  opened  fire  upon  the  Institute.  A 
section  of  McCausland's  artillery  came  up,  after  crossing 
the  bridge,  and  took  position  at  the  northeast  corner  of 
the  parade  ground  to  respond  to  Du  Pont.  As  soon  as 
our  troops  were  across  the  bridge,  it  was  fired,  and  a  fine 
column  of  black  smoke  rolled  heavenward.  Our  sappers, 
their  task  performed,  hurried  back  at  double  time  to  re- 
join their  respective  companies.  Along  the  pike  in  the 
valley  in  front  of  the  Institute,  the  cavalry,  weary  and 
depressed,  was  retiring  to  the  town. 

The  whole  panorama,  front  and  rear,  was  visible  from 
the  Institute  grounds,  and  made  a  very  pretty  war  scene. 

When  the  Union  battery  opened,  the  corps  was  drawn 
up  in  front  of  barracks  awaiting  orders.  It  was,  of  course, 
invisible  to  the  enemy  from  his  position  directly  in  rear 
of  barracks.  If  his  guns  had  been  aimed  at  the  centre  of 
the  building,  his  shells  would  have  exploded  in  our  midst. 
But  the  massive  parts  were  at  the  corners,  where  the 
towers  were  grouped,  and  thither  the  fire  was  directed. 
The  first  shell  that  struck  crashed  in  the  hall  of  the  So- 
ciety of  Cadets,,  sending  down  showers  of  brickbats  and 


312  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

plaster  when  it  exploded.  Thereupon  we  were  ordered  to 
pass  over  the  parapet  in  front  of  barracks,  and  thence 
were  marched  westward  until  clear  of  the  building,  so  as 
to  avoid  the  splinters  and  debris.  It  was  very  well,  for 
while  several  of  his  guns  turned  their  attention  to  our 
section  of  artillery  on  the  parade  ground,  Captain  Harry 
filled  the  air  with  fragments  as  he  pounded  away  at  our 
quarterso 

In  our  new  position  under  the  parapet,  about  opposite 
the  guard-tree,  although  fully  protected,  we  were  nearly 
in  the  line  of  fire  of  the  shots  directed  at  our  battery.  A 
number  of  shells  struck  the  parade  ground,  some  explod- 
ing there,  and  others  ricocheting  over  our  heads. 

Soon  after  this  we  marched  away.  As  we  were  leaving, 
the  artillery  was  limbering  up,  and  the  only  force  oppos- 
ing the  entrance  of  the  enemy  was  the  thin  line  of  skir- 
mishers on  the  river  bluffs.. 

With  heavy  hearts  we  passed  through  the  town,  bidding 
adieu  to  such  of  its  residents  as  we  had  known  in  happier 
days.  Our  route  was  southward  to  Balcony  Falls,  which 
we  reached  late  that  evening.  At  a  high  point,  probably 
five  miles  south  of  Lexington,  we  came  in  full  sight  of 
our  old  home.  The  day  was  bright  and  clear,  and  we  saw 
the  towers  and  turrets  of  the  barracks,  mess-hall,  and  pro- 
fessors' houses  in  full  blaze,  sending  up  great  masses  of 
flame  and  smoke.  The  only  building  on  the  entire  re- 
servation not  destroyed  by  fire  was  the  residence  of  Gen- 
eral Smith.  His  daughter  was  very  ill,  and  as  the  physi- 
cians declared  it  would  cost  her  life  to  remove  her,  the 
house  was  spared  through  the  intercession  of  Colonel 
Du  Pont. 

No  words  could  describe  our  feelings  as  we  rested  on 
the  roadside,  and  watched  the  conflagration.  The  place 
was  endeared  by  a  thousand  memories,  but  above  all  other 


THE   GRUB  BECOMES   A  BUTTERFLY  313 

thoughts,  it  galled  and  mortified  us  that  we  had  been 
compelled  to  abandon  it  without  firing  a  shot. 

Thinking  that  the  enemy  might  follow  us  and  attempt 
to  reach  Lynchburg  through  the  pass  at  Balcony  Falls, 
our  commandant  determined,  if  that  should  prove  to  be 
the  purpose  of  General  Hunter,  to  offer  resistance  there, 
for  it  was  a  very  defensible  position.  Accordingly,  upon 
reaching  Balcony  Falls,  pickets  were  posted,  the  corps 
was  deployed  along  the  mountain  side,  and  we  were  held 
ready  for  a  fight  all  that  night  and  until  late  in  the  fol- 
lowing day.  Then  we  ascertained  that  General  Hunter 
had  passed  on  up  the  valley  to  the  approaches  of  Lynch- 
burg by  way  of  the  Peaks  of  Otter.  We  impressed  a 
canal-boat,  and  resumed  our  journey  to  Lynchburg,  reach- 
ing there  some  hours  in  advance  of  the  enemy.  On  our 
arrival,  Early's  division  was  pouring  into  the  town,  having 
just  arrived  by  rail  from  Petersburg.  It  was  hurried 
forward  to  the  fortifications  in  the  outskirts. 

We  remained  in  the  streets  of  the  town  several  hours, 
awaiting  orders,  and  were  finally  sent  to  the  front  in 
reserve. 

Our  position  was  in  a  graveyard.  The  afternoon  we 
spent  there,  sitting  upon  graves  and  among  tombstones  in 
a  cold,  drizzling  rain,  was  anything  but  cheerful. 

The  enemy,  unaware  of  the  presence  of  Early's  division^ 
advanced  to  a  brisk  attack  with  infantry  and  artillery. 
Although  he  was  roughly  handled,  the  assault  continued 
until  dark,  and  he  had  pressed  up  very  close  to  a  salient 
in  our  front,  at  a  point  near  the  present  residence  of  Mr. 
John  Langhorne.  A  renewal  of  the  attack  on  the  follow- 
ing morning  was  confidently  expected.  About  ten  o'clock 
that  night,  orders  came  for  the  cadets  to  move  to  the  front 
to  relieve  the  troops  in  the  salient,  who  had  been  fighting 
since  midday. 


314  THE   END   OF   AN  ERA 

When  the  corps  was  formed  in  line,  Colonel  Shipp,  in 
low  tones,  explained  the  nature  of  the  service,  and  the 
importance  of  silence.  We  were  warned  not  to  speak, 
and,  as  the  night  was  very  black,  each  man  was  instructed 
to  place  his  left  hand  upon  the  cartridge-box  of  the  man 
in  front  of  him,  so  as  to  keep  distance  and  alignment. 
Thus  formed,  we  proceeded  to  the  bastion,  and  entered  it 
in  gloomy  silence.  The  troops  occupying  it  were  drawn 
up  as  we  entered,  and  glided  out  after  we  were  in,  like  the 
shadows  of  darkness. 

The  place  was  horrible.  The  fort  was  new,  and  con- 
structed of  stiff  red  clay.  The  rain  had  wet  the  soil,  and 
the  feet  of  the  men  who  had  been  there  had  kneaded  the 
mud  into  dough.  There  was  no  place  to  lie  down.  All 
that  a  man  could  do  was  to  sit  plump  down  in  the  mud, 
upon  the  low  banquette,  with  his  gun  across  his  lap.  I 
could  not  resist  peeping  over  the  parapet,  and  there,  but 
a  short  distance  from  us,  in  a  little  valley,  were  the  smoul- 
dering camp-fires  of  the  enemy.  Wrapping  my  blanket 
about  me,  its  ends  tucked  under  me,  so  as  to  keep  out  the 
moisture  from  the  red  clay  as  much  as  possible,  I  fell 
asleep,  hugging  my  rifle,  never  doubting  that  there  would 
be  work  for  both  of  us  at  daybreak. 

I  must  have  slept  soundly,  for  when  I  awoke  it  was 
broad  daylight.  The  men  were  beginning  to  talk  aloud, 
and  several  were  exposing  themselves  freely.  No  enemy 
appeared  in  our  front.  He  was  gone.  Hunter,  discov- 
ering that  he  was  overmatched,  had  retired  during  the 
night,  and  was  now  in  full  retreat. 

Lexington  was  now  accessible  to  us  once  more,  and 
thither  we  proceeded  in  a  day  or  two. 

On  our  return  to  Lexington,  we  temporarily  quartered 
in  Washington  College.  Nothing  worth  having  was  left 
of  the  Virginia  Military  Institute.     The  scene  was  one  of 


THE  GRUB  BECOMES  A  BUTTERFLY  315 

such  complete  desolation,  and  so  depressing,  that  I  avoided 
it  as  much  as  possible. 

We  were  furloughed  until  September  1,  and  ordered  to 
report  at  that  time  at  the  almshouse  in  Richmond. 

This  apparently  absurd  announcement  was  another  illus- 
tration of  the  resourcefulness  of  General  Smith.  The  city 
of  Richmond  had  a  very  fine  almshouse,  but  at  this  period 
of  the  war  all  our  people  were  paupers,  and  the  city  could 
not  maintain  the  almshouse.  Knowing  this,  General 
Smith  had  opened  telegraphic  correspondence  from  Lynch- 
burg with  the  Richmond  authorities,  and  secured  the  place 
free  of  rent. 

For  myself,  I  now  saw  a  chance  of  entering  the  service, 
and  had  no  idea  of  going  to  live  in  an  almshouse.  My 
objective  point  was  Petersburg,  where  my  father's  brigade 
was  stationed.  He  was  in  command  of  the  city,  having 
been  engaged  with  the  enemy  almost  daily  since  his  arrival 
from  South  Carolina  in  May.  Against  overwhelming 
odds,  Beauregard  had  held  the  place  until  the  arrival  of 
General  Lee. 

It  was  about  sundown  on  the  22d  of  June,  1864,  that  our 
train  from  Richmond  stopped  in  a  deep  cut  about  a  mile 
from  Petersburg.  We  could  not  safely  approach  nearer 
to  the  city.  When  General  "  Baldy  "  Smith,  with  22,000 
men,  attacked  my  father  with  2200  men  on  the  15th  of 
June,  he  captured  several  redoubts,  numbered  from  5  to  9, 
near  the  Appomattox  River,  just  below  Petersburg.  From 
these,  with  his  siege-guns,  he  could  shell  the  town,  and 
particularly  the  railroad  depot  and  the  Pocahontas  Bridge 
near  by  across  the  Appomattox.  As  a  consequence,  the 
trains  stopped  at  a  point  of  safety,  whence  passengers 
could  take  a  back  route  to  the  town,  or  go  by  way  of  the 
railroad  without  attracting  attention.  The  disagreeable 
persons  at  the  captured  batteries  soon  ascertained  the  rail- 


316  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

road  schedules,  and  shelled  the  vicing  of  the  depot  about 
train  time. 

Soldiers  had  become  accustomed  to  shells,  and  did  not 
fear  them  much  ;  so  our  party,  consisting  of  several  mem- 
bers of  my  father's  brigade,  followed  the  short  route,  not- 
withstanding quite  a  lively  artillery  fire.  We  crossed  the 
bridge  at  Pocahontas  without  incident.  The  firing  seemed 
directed  higher  up  town.  Passing  on  to  Bolingbroke 
Street,  we  saw  evidences  of  recent  damage  in  a  great  hole 
made  by  a  shell  in  the  Bolingbroke  Hotel,  but  a  few 
moments  before,  and  a  dead  man  was  lying  on  the  curb- 
stone near  where  the  shell  had  exploded.  Turning  into 
Bolingbroke  Street,  which  ran  nearly  parallel  with  the  line 
of  fire  from  Battery  5,  two  heavy  shells  went  screaming 
over  our  heads,  and  burst  near  where  Bolingbroke  Street 
terminates  in  Sycamore  Street.  It  was  a  decided  relief 
when  we  reached  the  latter,  and  struck  off  at  right  angles 
from  the  range  of  those  guns.  The  official  headquarters 
were  in  the  court  house,  which,  while  it  was  in  the  line  of 
fire,  was  protected  by  heavy  masses  of  intervening  build- 
ings. Thither  we  repaired,  but  found  they  were  closed 
for  the  day. 

The  appearance  of  the  town  was  exceedingly  depress- 
ing. The  streets  were  almost  deserted,  and  the  destructive 
work  of  the  shells  was  visible  on  every  hand.  Here  a 
chimney  was  knocked  off  ;  here  a  handsome  residence  was 
deserted,  with  great  rents  in  its  walls,  and  the  windows 
shattered  by  explosion  ;  here  stood  a  church  tower  muti- 
lated, the  churchyard  filled  with  new-made  graves.  As 
we  moved  onward,  one  of  our  party  pointed  to  where 
Colonel  Page  of  our  brigade  was  buried.  He  had  been 
killed  but  a  week  before,  and  was  buried  near  the  front 
door  of  a  chnrch,  within  three  feet  of  the  sidewalk.  On 
the  court-house  steps  a  group  of  dirty  soldiers  were  gath- 


THE   GRUB   BECOMES   A  BUTTERFLY  317 

ered  about  a  poor  little  half-starved  white  girl,  who  sat 
singing.  She  had  an  attractive  face,  with  large,  wistful 
eyes,  and  a  sweet  child-voice.  When  she  sang,  her  whole 
soul  was  in  her  song,  which  seemed  to  be  highly  appre- 
ciated by  the  soldiers.  They  joined  in  the  chorus  after 
each  verse.  I  remember  the  name  of  the  song,  the  first 
verse,  and  the  chorus,  although  I  never  heard  them  before 
or  since.     It  was  called  "  Loula,"  and  ran  as  follows  :  — 

"  With  a  heart  forsaken  I  wander 
In  silence,  in  grief,  and  alone ; 
On  a  form  departed  I  ponder, 
For  Loula,  sweet  Loula,  is  gone. 

CHORUS. 

"  Gone  where  the  roses  have  faded, 
*   Gone  where  the  meadows  are  bare, 
To  a  land  by  orange-blossoms  shaded, 
Where  summer  ever  lingers  in  the  air." 

The  soldiers  seemed  deeply  touched  by  the  plaintive 
melody,  and  joined  with  genuine  feeling  in  the  mournful 
chorus.  Its  sadness  was  in  accord  with  their  own  desper- 
ate situation.  They  made  her  repeat  it  several  times,  and, 
when  it  was  over,  paid  her  in  food,  or  such  little  trifles  or 
trinkets  as  they  possessed,  —  not  in  money,  for  they  had 
none. 

About  the  song,  the  singer,  the  soldiers,  the  scene,  and 
its  surroundings  there  was  something  intensely  pathetic 
and  depressing,  and  I  turned  away  with  a  heartsick  feel- 
ing, not  relieved  by  the  silence  and  desolation  along  the 
route  to  my  father's  quarters  at  the  residence  of  a  Mr. 
Dunlop  in  the  western  part  of  the  town.  I  found  him  in 
the  act  of  going  to  tea  with  his  staff,  if  a  meal  at  which 
there  was  neither  tea  nor  coffee  may  be  so  designated. 

Our  meeting  after  two  years'  separation  —  years  in 
which  so  much  had  happened  to  both  of  us  —  was  inex- 
pressibly delightful.     In  my  father's  greeting  was  blended 


318  THE    END    OF   AN    ERA 

love  for  his  "  little  Benjamin,"  pride  in  recent  events, 
and  solicitude  concerning  my  fate  in  the  dangerous  present- 
future. 

The  two  years  of  war  since  we  parted  showed  their 
effects  upon  him.  He  had  aged  decidedly.  But  his  eye 
was  as  bright  and  his  spirit  as  unconquered  as  at  the 
outset. 

We  hugged  and  kissed  each  other  as  if  I  had  been  a 
boy  of  ten,  and  then,  turning  to  his  staff  and  a  visitor,  he 
introduced  me  as  his  boy,  whose  "  head  was  **  s  d  he  had 
burst  a  bombshell  against  it."  r 

The  evening  being  very  warm,  the  tea-table  was  spread 
under  the  trees  in  the  Dunlop  yard.  Among  those  pre- 
sent were :  Colonel  Roman,  of  Beauregard's  staff,  young 
Fre.d  Fleet,  adjutant-general,  my  brother  Richard,  and 
Barksdale  Warwick,  the  two  aids-de-camp.  The  con- 
versation was  jolly,  and  the  meal  surprisingly  inviting,  for 
Lieutenant  Warwick  had  returned  that  day  from  a  short 
leave  of  absence,  bringing  a  number  of  good  things.  My 
father  occupied  some  outbuildings,  where  his  generous 
host,  Mr.  Dunlop,  had  supplied  him  with  knives,  forks, 
plates,  and  table  outfit,  giving  our  tea-table  under  the 
trees  quite  a  luxurious  appearance.  And  there  were  my 
old  companions,  Joshua  and  Smith,  two  of  my  father's 
young  slaves,  who  performed  all  the  offices  of  grooms, 
butlers,  and  dining-room  servants  for  the  staff.  Lieuten- 
ant Warwick's  Jim  was  the  cook.  As  Joshua  and  Smith 
appeared  with  plates  and  hot  biscuits  and  a  smoking  pot 
of  parched-corn  coffee,  they  broke  into  broad  grins  at 
sight  of  me.  Putting  down  their  things  unceremoniously, 
they  rushed  up,  exclaiming,  "  How  you  do,  Mars'  John  ? 
Gord  Amighty !  how  you  is  grow'd !  Dey  did  n't  hurt 
you  much  when  dey  shot  you,  did  dey  ?  "  When  my  father 
repeated   his  joke  about  bursting  a  bombshell  with  my 


THE  GRUB  BECOMES  A  BUTTERFLY  319 

head,  they  guffawed  and  said,  "  Spec'  it 's  so,  fur  he  cer- 
tainly always  did  have  a  pow'ful  hard  head."  And  then 
they  hurried  off  about  their  duties,  reserving  more  confi- 
dential chats  about  old  times  for  later  occasions  when  we 
should  meet  at  the  stables  or  the  kitchen. 

Although  our  beds  were  on  the  floor,  the  quarters  were 
very  comfortable,  with  some  features  of  decent  living,  such 
as  tables,  chairs,  and  a  few  books.  As  we  sat  there,  the 
picket-firing  alon£  the  lines  from  the  Appomattox  on  the 
east  to  thp  jalem  plank  road  to  the  south  of  the  city 
was  unusually  brisk,  making  one  think  of  corn  rapidly 
popping.  These  sounds  were  interspersed  with  exploding 
shells  at  intervals  of  less  than  a  minute,  often  as  frequent 
as  every  few  seconds.  By  stepping  out  beyond  the  cover 
of  the  trees,  we  could  see  the  trajectory  of  the  mortar- 
shells  sent  up  from  both  sides.  The  burning  fuses  gave 
us  the  line  through  the  darkness.  The  firing  generally 
became  more  active  in  the  evening.  Our  brigade  was 
already  in  the  trenches,  but  my  father,  being  still  in  com- 
mand of  the  city,  had  not  yet  joined  his  own  command. 

"  There  has  been  heavy  firing  on  the  right  this  after- 
noon, general,"  said  Colonel  Roman. 

"  Yes,"  replied  my  father,  "  Grant  is  evidently  trying 
to  extend  his  left  as  far  as  the  Weldon  Railroad.  I  met 
Mahone  to-day,  who  said  that  he  and  Wilcox  were  mov- 
ing out  to  intercept  him.  Whenever  Mahone  moves  out, 
somebody  is  apt  to  be  hurt." 

"  Mahone  is  a  Virginia  Military  Institute  graduate," 
said  I,  with  undisguised  pride. 

"  There  he  goes  again,"  said  my  father,  smiling  ;  "  up  to 

-  this  time  we  have  had  West  Point,  West  Point,  West 

Point.     Now  we  shall  have  Virginia  Military  Institute, 

Virginia  Military  Institute,  Virginia  Military  Institute, 

I  presume.     But   seriously  speaking,  colonel,  since  the 


320  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

death  of  Stonewall  Jackson,  the  two  men  who  seem  to  me 
to  be  the  most  gallant,  enterprising,  and  '  coming '  soldiers 
of  Lee's  army  are  this  little  fellow  Mahone  and  young 
Gordon,  of  Georgia."  He  then  proceeded  to  give  a  sketch 
of  Mahone,  whom  he  knew  well.  Mahone  was  born  in 
Southampton  County,  at  Jerusalem,  the  county  seat.  It 
was  only  about  fifty  or  sixty  miles  east  of  Petersburg 
His  father  was  known  to  everybody  in  the  county  as 
Major  Mahone,  and  kept  the  tavern  at  Jerusalem.  Keep- 
ing tavern  did  not  imply  that  he  was  not  as  good  as  any- 
body else  in  the  community,  and  in  fact  he  was,  although 
he  may  not  have  been  of  such  patrician  extraction  as  some 
of  the  other  people  thereabouts.  He  associated  with  the 
best  of  them,  and  they  with  him,  and  he  was  respected  as 
a  man  of  many  sterling  good  qualities,  possessed  of  strong 
individuality.  Of  Irish  extraction,  he  inherited  the  most 
prominent  characteristics'  of  his  race;  was  brave,  open- 
hearted,  free-spoken,  a  free  liver,  and  not  over-prosperous. 
His  son  "  Billy,"  as  everybody  called  him,  grew  up  in 
the  atmosphere  of  a  country  tavern.  He  did  not  hesitate 
in  his  youth  to  hold  a  horse  for  one  of  his  father's  guests, 
and  take  a  tip  for  the  service.  He  saw  a  great  deal  of 
liquor  drunk  at  his  father's  bar,  and  a  great  deal  of  card- 
playing  in  his  father's  tavern.  He  was  not,  in  his  day, 
above  taking  in  a  tray  of  toddies  to  the  people  in  a  private 
room  playing  draw  poker,  or  brag,  or  lou.  He  heard  a 
great  deal  of  hard  swearing,  and  had  acquired  that  ac- 
complishment himself.  His  youth  was  in  the  days  of  cock- 
fighting  ;  and  betting  upon  the  result  was  by  no  means 
deemed  disreputable.  He  not  only  witnessed  cocking- 
mains  between  the  Virginia  birds  and  those  from  Weldon 
and  vicinity  in  the  adjoining  counties  of  North  Carolina, 
but  soon  had  birds  of  his  own,  and  scrupled  not  to  fight 
them  with  all  comers,  or  to  back  them  with  all  the  means 


THE   GRUB  BECOMES  A  BUTTERFLY  321 

he  could  command.  It  was  the  days  of  horse-racing  also, 
and  young  "  Billy  "  owned  a  crack  quarter-nag,  which  he 
would  race  with  anybody  for  all  he  had,  at  any  time  and 
in  any  place.  He  generally  rode  himself,  for  he  was  of 
very  diminutive  stature.  And  he  usually  won,  for  he  was 
a  youngster  of  precocious  judgment,  boundless  enterprise, 
great  ambition  to  win  at  any  game  he  played,  and  indom- 
itable grit.  He  also  had  the  faculty  of  making  friends, 
and  interesting  people  in  his  success.  Everybody  in 
Southampton  County  knew  him,  and  recognized  in  him 
elements  of  unusual  power. 

His  father  was  perhaps  too  much  interested  in  his  busi- 
ness or  his  own  diversions  to  concern  himself  overmuch 
about  Billy's  education,  but  the  subject  did  not  escape  a 
neighbor,  who  had  brought  his  influence  to  bear  in  favor 
of  young  Mahone.  He  was  a  state  senator,  with  the  right 
to  appoint  a  state  cadet  to  the  Virginia  Military  Institute. 
This  meant  that  the  cadet  so  appointed  received  board 
and  tuition  free.  Interested  in  Billy,  he  persuaded  his 
father  and  himself  that  he  ought  not  to  waste  his  youth  in 
dissipation  and  grow  up  in  ignorance,  but  should  accept 
this  appointment.  Mahone  was  prompt  to  do  so.  He 
entered  the  Institute,  and  graduated  with  distinction  at 
the  age  of  twenty-one  in  the  class  of  1847.  He  consci- 
entiously performed  the  obligation  which  a  state  cadet 
assumes,  to  teach  school  for  three  years  after  graduation  ; 
and  meanwhile  made  other  powerful  friends,  who  advanced 
him  in  his  subsequent  career. 

At  the  Virginia  Military  Institute,  he  developed  a 
decided  talent  for  engineering.  Having  completed  his 
term  as  school-teacher,  he  secured  a  position  as  surveyor 
of  a  railroad  running  from  Alexandria,  Va.,  to  Orange 
Court  House.  His  talents  were  recognized;  he  was 
promoted ;  and  finally,  through  the  influence  mainly  of 


322  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

Colonel  Francis  Mallory,  of  Norfolk,  he  was  made  en- 
gineer of  a  line  from  Norfolk  to  Petersburg.  Here  he  was 
confronted  by  the  problem  of  securing  a  roadbed  through 
the  oozy  morasses  of  the  Dismal  Swamp.  He  solved  the 
problem,  built  the  road,  and  made  it  straight  as  an  arrow 
for  sixty  miles,  regardless  of  obstructions.  His  engineer- 
ing methods  to  obtain  a  solid  roadbed  on  marshy  ground, 
then  pronounced  as  impracticable,  have  now  come  to  be 
accepted  by  the  profession  as  the  best  yet  invented.  He 
rose  from  position  to  position,  until,  at  the'  outbreak  of 
the  war,  when  but  thirty-five  years  old,  he  was  president 
of  the  Norfolk  and  Petersburg  Railroad. 

He  promptly  formed,  and  was  elected  colonel  of,  the 
Sixth  Virginia  Regiment,  composed  of  the  elite  of  Norfolk 
and  Petersburg,  and,  when  that  regiment  was  brigaded, 
was  made  brigadier.  Thenceforth,  in  every  engagement 
in  which  it  took  part,  his  command  was  conspicuous.  In 
the  peninsular  and  Rappahannock  campaigns,  at  second 
Manassas,  in  front  of  Petersburg,  his  course  was  like  the 
eagle's,  "  upward  and  onward  and  true  to  the  line,"  and, 
after  all  his  fighting  and  losses,  when  Lee's  army  stacked 
arms  at  Appomattox,  Mahone's  division  had  maintained 
its  organization  better,  and  laid  down  more  arms,  than 
any  in  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia.  The  facts  of  his 
youth  and  the  brilliancy  of  his  career  up  to  date  were 
that  night  the  subject  of  conversation  until  the  visitors 
departed. 

We  lay  awake  talking  for  some  time  after  we  retired. 
My  father  recounted  his  hard  fighting  from  June  15  to 
June  19  inclusive,  in  the  effort  to  hold  the  city  until  Gen- 
eral Lee's  arrival,  and  never  seemed  to  tire  of  asking 
about  the  behavior  of  the  cadets,  seeking  ever  to  conceal 
his  pride  in  our  achievements  by  denouncing  the  crime  of 
putting  such  babies  into  battle.    In  his  own  command,  the 


THE   GRUB  BECOMES   A  BUTTERFLY  323 

osses  had  been  terrific.  Many  a  fine  fellow  whom  I 
mew  well  had  been  killed  or  maimed  in  the  hard  fighting 
»f  the  previous  week.  Then  we  counted  up  the  casualties 
n  our  own  immediate  family.  Since  1861,  he,  three  sons, 
,nd  nine  nephews  had  gone  into  the  Confederate  service, 
rhus  far,  two  had  been  killed  and  six  wounded. 

"  You  must  go  down  the  first  thing  in  the  morning  to 
he  hospital,  and  see  your  cousin  Douglas.  It  may  be  the 
ast  opportunity,"  said  he,  his  voice  softening  as  he  spoke. 

"  Why,  he  is  not  much  hurt,  is  he?  "  said  I,  for  he  had 
>een  reported  only  slightly  wounded.  We  were  talking 
if  his  brigade-inspector,  a  member  of  his  staff,  a  favorite 
Lephew,  who  had  always  been  more  like  a  son  than  a 
lephew. 

"  Yes,  very  seriously,"  he  said ;  "  at  first  we  thought 
t  a  mere  scalp  wound  like  yours,  but  his  brain  is  affected 
low,  and  I  apprehend  the  most  serious  result." 

I  soon  discovered  that  my  own  future  was  causing  him 
jreat  anxiety,  and  that  before  my  coming,  notwithstanding 
til  the  cares  and  anxieties  surrounding  him,  he  had  been 
hinking  and  planning  about  me.  He  had  not,  perhaps, 
iven  confessed  it  to  himself,  but  his  plans  involved  pitt- 
ing me  in  a  place  of  safety.  He  told  me  that  General 
temper,  of  Gettysburg  fame,  now  permanently  disabled 
>y  the  wounds  received  there,  was  organizing  the  Virginia 
eserve  forces,  that  is,  men  over  forty-five  years  old  and 
>oys  under  eighteen  ;  that,  in  doing  so,  the  services  of  a 
arge  number  of  drill-masters  would  be  required ;  that  they 
vould  have  the  rank  of  second  lieutenants,  and  be  assigned 
o  staff  duty  in  active  service  as  soon  as  their  work  as 
Irill-masters  was  completed ;  and,  finally,  that  he  had 
ilready  been  in  correspondence  with  General  Kemper, 
vho  was  an  old  friend,  and  had  secured  the  promise  of 
me  of  these  appointments  for  me. 


324  THE   END   OF  AN  ERA 

It  was  all  put  very  attractively  and  very  seductively 
but  I  saw  the  motive  very  clearly.  I  felt  rebellious  aboul 
it,  but  could  not  but  love  the  dear  old  fellow  all  the 
more,  and  did  not  blame  him,  so  fearless  himself,  for  lov 
ing  me  to  the  point  of  pardonable  cowardice  concerning 
myself.  Knowing  his  sacrifices  and  sufferings,  I  felt  thai 
I  had  no  right  to  be  refractory  just  then  ;  and  the  ider* 
of  being  a  lieutenant,  with  bars  on  my  collar,  tickled  my 
vanity  not  a  little. 

I  was  awakened  in  the  morning  by  our  servant  Smith 
exclaiming,  as  he  awoke  father,  "I  declar',  Marster,  it  looks 
like  Gin'l  Mahone  dun  caught  de  whole  Yankee  army." 

"  What 's  that  ?  "  exclaimed  father,  springing  out  of 
bed. 

Then  Smith  informed  us  that  during  the  night  a  great 
number  of  prisoners,  captured  the  preceding  evening  by 
General  Mahone,  had  been  brought  into  Petersburg,  and 
were  at  that  moment  confined  under  guard  on  a  piece  of 
meadow  in  rear  of  our  stable,  near  what  were  known  as 
the  Ettrick  Mills.  Dressing  quickly,  we  walked  down  to 
where  the  prisoners  were,  and  there  we  found  over  seven- 
teen hundred  Union  soldiers,  captured  the  preceding  day 
from  the  divisions  of  Generals  Mott  and  Gibbons  by 
General  Mahone. 

We  ascertained  in  a  general  way  what  had  occurred. 
My  father  inquired  for  General  Mahone,  and  was  told  he 
would  be  down  a  little  later ;  he  left  a  message  requesting 
General  Mahone  to  call  by  his  headquarters.  They  had 
been  warm  friends,  personal  and  political,  for  years ;  my 
father  had  faith  in  his  ability,  and  had  helped  him  mate- 
rially in  his  early  struggles,  and  he  in  turn  thought  the 
"  Old  General,"  as  he  always  called  him,  one  of  the 
greatest  of  men.  We  had  just  finished  breakfast  when, 
trotting  up  through  the  yard,  followed  by  a  soldier  on  a  I 


THE   GRUB   BECOMES  A  BUTTERFLY  325 

sway-backed,  flea-bitten  gray,  came   little   General   Ma- 
hone. 

He  was  the  sauciest-looking  little  manikin  imaginable ; 
he  rode  a  diminutive  blood-like  bay  mare,  fat,  sleek,  and 
well-groomed,  as  if  no  war  were  going  on  ;  she  was  quick 
and  nervous,  and  tossed  her  head,  and  champed  at  her  bit, 
and  sidled  about  like  a  real  live  horse,  instead  of  being 
poor,  jaded,  and  half  asleep,  as  were  many  others ;  her 
trappings,  too,  were  expensive,  new,  and  stylish.  The 
little  general  looked  like  a  perfect  tin  soldier.  He  threw 
his  reins  to  the  orderly  and  dismounted.  His  person  and 
attire  were  simply  unique :  he  was  not  over  five  feet 
seven  inches  tall,  and  was  as  attenuated  as  an  Italian 
greyhound  ;  his  head  was  finely  shaped  ;  his  eye,  deep-set 
beneath  a  heavy  brow,  was  very  bright  and  restless  ;  his 
hair  was  worn  long ;  his  nose  was  straight,  prominent, 
and  aggressive  ;  his  face  was  covered  with  a  drooping 
mustache  and  full  beard  of  rich  chestnut  color  and  ex- 
ceeding fine  texture  ;  he  wore  a  large  sombrero  hat,  with- 
out plume,  cocked  on  one  side,  and  decorated  with  a 
division  badge ;  he  had  a  hunting-shirt  of  gray,  with 
rolling  collar,  plaited  about  the  waist,  and  tucked  into 
his  trousers,  which  were  also  plaited  about  the  waist- 
band, swelled  at  the  hips,  and  tapering  to  the  ankle ; 
while  he  wore  boots,  his  trousers  covered  them ;  those 
boots  were  as  small  as  a  woman's,  and  exquisitely  made ; 
his  linen  was  of  the  very  finest  and  softest, — nobody  could 
guess  how  he  procured  it ;  and  when  he  ungloved  one 
little  hand,  it  was  almost  as  diminutive  and  frail  as  the 
foot  of  a  song-bird ;  he  had  no  sword,  but  wore  a  sword- 
belt  with  the  straps  linked  together,  and  in  his  hand  he 
carried  a  slender  wand  of  a  stick.  Altogether,  he  was  the 
oddest  and  daintiest  little  specimen  of  humanity  I  had 
ever  seen.     His  voice  was  almost  a  falsetto  tenor. 


326  THE  END   OF  AN  ERA 

"Ah!  my  dear  general,"  he  exclaimed,  advancing 
cheerily,  and  extending  his  hand  ;  "  I  received  your  mes- 
sage and  was  delighted,  for  I  can  never  pass  you  by." 
Refusing  to  have  breakfast  replaced,  he  said,  "No,  no,  no, 
you  know  I  am  tortured  with  my  old  enemy,  dyspepsia.  I 
can  take  nothing  but  milk  ;  and  I  suffer  so  without  that 
that  I  have  brought  my  Alderney  cow  along  with  me  in 
all  our  campaigns." 

Most  of  the  staff  he  knew  ;  as  he  looked  inquiringly  at 
me,  my  father  presented  me.  A  bright,  affectionate  smile 
spread  over  his  face. 

"  Good  boy !  "  said  he  ;  "I  knew  the  old  Virginia  Mili- 
tary Institute  would  show  folks  what  fighting  is,  if  she 
ever  had  a  chance."  Then  he  turned  to  my  father  and 
said,  "  General,  give  him  to  me ;  I  '11  have  plenty  for  him 
to  do."  That  remark  cost  the  old  gentleman  many  an 
anxious  hour. 

Then  the  party  sat  down,  and  Mahone  with  his  little 
stick,  and  in  his  peculiar  graphic  way,  drew  in  the  sand 
the  diagram  of  yesterday's  operations,  and  explained  how 
he  and  his  gallant  division  had  "  doubled  'em  up,"  as  he 
loved  to  call  it.     And  this  is  how  it  was : 

Grant's  left  and  our  right  were  south  of  Petersburg 
near  the  Jerusalem  plank  road.  Grant  had  a  way  of 
putting  one  line  immediately  opposite  us  to  occupy  us, 
and  then  forming  a  second  line  a  mile  or  so  in  rear,  which 
he  would  extend  beyond  the  first,  and  then  throw  it 
forward.  By  this  process  he  sought  to  envelop  our  right 
flank.  Learning  that  the  Union  troops  on  our  ri»-ht  were 
in  this  position,  General  Lee  sent  out  General  Cadmus 
Wilcox,  with  a  division  of  A.  P.  Hill's  corps,  to  take  posi- 
tion in  rear  of  the  enemy's  rear  line,  and  General  Mahone, 
with  his  division,  to  interpose  between  the  enemy's  two 
lines  and  attack  the  line  nearest  to  us.     When  Wilcox 


THE  GRUB   BECOMES   A   BUTTERFLY  327 

heard  Mahone's  attack  upon  the  first  line,  he  was  to 
attack  the  rear  of  the  second  line. 

Mahone  went  in,  took  his  position,  attacked,  "  doubled 
up  "  Grant's  left,  ran  the  Union  soldiers  out  of  their  own 
lines  into  ours,  and  captured  1742  prisoners,  four  light 
guns,  and  eight  standards,  and  Wilcox  spent  the  day 
fumbling  and  fiddling  about  and  doing  nothing.  From 
then  until  now  he  has  been  explaining,  sometimes  saying 
A.  P.  Hill  never  fully  informed  him  of  what  he  was  ex- 
pected to  do,  sometimes  claiming  that  Mahone  acted  with- 
out cooperating  with  him,  and  always  disposed  to  grumble 
and  try  to  put  the  blame  upon  Mahone  for  achieving  a 
success  so  much  more  brilliant  than  his  own. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  "  Little  Billy  Mahone,"  that  sunlit 
June  morning,  was  one  of  the  brightest,  merriest  little 
soldiers  in  the  Confederacy,  and  never  imagined,  as  he 
told  us  how  it  was  done  and  chuckled  over  the  surprise 
of  the  enemy,  that  any  one  would  afterwards  blame  him 
for  what  he  had  done.  Even  then  he  had,  by  his  brilliant 
work,  gained  such  lodgment  in  General  Lee's  regard  that 
he  was  rapidly  taking  rank  in  his  confidence  alongside  of 
Longstreet  and  A.  P.  Hill. 

As  he  mounted  his  little  thoroughbred,  clapped  his 
spurs  to  her,  touched  his  hat,  and  galloped  away,  I  felt 
as  if  I  would  give  anything  in  th^s  world  if  my  father 
would  consent  to  his  proposition,  —  "  Give  him  to  me." 

A  little  later,  we  walked  down  to  the  hospital,  and 
found  my  poor  cousin  delirious ;  in  a  day  or  two  he  was 
dead,  and  our  family  contributed  one  more  victim  to  the 
Juggernaut  of  war. 


<u=?sC 


CHAPTER  XXI 

LIFE   AT   PETERSBURG 

Following  close  upon  Mahone's  successful  manoeuvre 
came  the  raid  of  General  Wilson  around  our  right  flank, 
whereby  he  attempted  to  destroy  General  Lee's  line  of 
supply,  —  the  Southside  Railroad.  He  was  promptly  and 
hotly  attacked  and  driven  off  near  Black's  and  White's 
Station  by  General  W.  H.  F.  Lee  ;  then,  pursuing  the 
line  of  the  Danville  Railroad,  he  was  repulsed  at  Staun- 
ton River  bridge  by  local  militia ;  turning  back  from 
that  point  to  rejoin  the  Union  army,  Hampton,  Fitz  Lee, 
Heth,  and  Mahone  attacked  him  near  Reams's  Station, 
and  handled  him  so  roughly  that  he  became  the  laughing- 
stock of  Lee's  army.  We  at  Petersburg  saw  nothing  of 
these  operations,  but  the  incidents  of  Wilson's  discomfi- 
ture and  final  rout  furnished  merriment  for  the  camps 
during  the  ensuing  period  of  comparative  inactivity. 

About  the  middle  of  July,  I  visited  Richmond  to  in- 
quire about  my  appointment  as  drill-master.  General 
Kemper's  reception  was  pompous ;  he  was  a  striking- 
looking  man,  notwithstanding  a  waxen  pallor  proceeding 
from  the  severe  wounds  he  had  received  at  Gettysburg ; 
he  apparently  suffered  great  pain ;  hobbling  back  and 
forth  upon  his  crutches,  he  descanted,  with  loud  voice  and 
consequential  manner,  upon  the  noble  work  of  preparing 
raw  troops  for  service  in  the  field.  He  also  indulged  in 
sentimental  flights  upon  military  glory,  not  failing  to 
refer  to  the  fact  that  he  was  the  only  survivor  of  Pickett's 


LIFE   AT   PETERSBURG  329 

three  brigadiers  who  entered  the  fight  at  Gettysburg. 
General  Kemper  had  a  good  record  as  a  soldier,  both  in 
Mexico  and  in  our  own  service ;  otherwise,  judging  by- 
manner  and  conversation  alone,  he  would  have  been 
classed  as  a  Bombastes  Furioso. 

The  upshot  of  our  interview  was  the  premise  of  a  com- 
mission, coupled  with  the  information  that  my  duties 
under  it  would  not  begin  before  October  1,  as  his  depart- 
ment was  not  yet  fully  organized ;  that  was  delightful,  for 
Petersburg  had  fascinated  me,  and  I  hurried  back  there. 
My  father  was  not  overpleased  at  my  reappearance.  He 
had  depended  upon  his  friend  Kemper  to  put  me  away 
in  some  safe  place ;  I,  on  the  other  hand,  still  cherished 
the  hope  that  he  might  yet  listen  to  Mahone:s  request 
that  he  should  give  me  to  him. 

If  a  boy  just  closing  the  Iliad,  the  Odyssey,  or  the 
-ZEneid,  should  be  permitted  to  behold  their  heroes  in 
the  flesh,  and  performing  the  valorous  deeds  which  im- 
mortalize them,  fancy  what  would  be  his  ecstasy !  Yet, 
for  three  years  past,  modern  heroes  had  come  upon  the 
stage  who  were,  in  my  enthusiastic  estimate  of  their 
powers,  second  to  no  half-clothed  ancient  whose  deeds  are 
celebrated  by  Homer  or  Virgil. 

Until  now,  I  had  lived  in  torturing  apprehension  lest 
a  perverse  fate  should  deny  me  opportunity  to  see  them, 
and  to  follow,  however  humbly,  leaders  who  had  been 
the  subject  of  my  thoughts  by  day  and  dreams  by  night 
since  the  great  struggle  began.  Here  they  were  all  about 
me  ;  a  house,  or  a  tent  by  the  roadside,  decorated  with 
a  headquarters  flag,  guarded  by  a  few  couriers,  was  all 
that  stood  between  their  greatness  and  the  humblest  pri- 
vate in  the  army.  They  were  riding  back  and  forth,  and 
going  out  and  coming  in  at  all  hours,  so  that  everybody 
saw  them. 


330  THE  END   OF  AN  ERA 

Two  of  the  immortals  of  that  army  had  been  snatched 
away  before  my  day,  —  Stonewall  Jackson  of  the  infantry, 
and  Jeb  Stuart  of  the  cavalry.  But  the  presence  of  a 
glorious  company  still  gave  romantic  interest  to  the  deeds 
of  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia.  Robert  E.  Lee,  Beau- 
regard, A.  P.  Hill,  Ewell,  Anderson,  Hampton,  Pickett 
Mahone,  W.  H.  F.  Lee  ("Rooney  "),  Gordon,  Fitz  Lee, 
Fields,  Heth,  Hoke,  and  a  host  of  lesser  lights  were  still 
actors  in  its  heroic  struggles.  The  first  shall  be  last  in 
the  description  of  these  men  as  I  saw  them  almost  daily. 
Of  Anderson,  Fields,  and  Hoke  I  remember  very  little, 
and  Longstreet  was  absent. 

Next  to  General  Lee  in  point  of  rank  and  fame  was 
General  Beauregard.     He  had  been  hurried  up  with  his 
command  in  May  from  Charleston  to  defend  Petersburg 
until  Lee's  army  would  reach  the  scene.     Under  him,  my 
father's  command  had  borne  the  brunt  of  the  first  assaults 
upon  Petersburg.    He  was  attached  to  General  Wise,  and 
as  he  frequently  visited  our  quarters,  I  saw  him  often. 
Beauregard  was  a  soldier  of  decided  ability,  and  deserves 
great  credit  for  the  early  defense  of  Petersburg.     He  was 
heavily  handicapped  throughout  the  war  by  the  dislike  of 
Mr.  Davis.    If  he  had  been  given  more  favorable  opportu- 
nities, General  Beauregard  would  occupy  a  more  prominent 
place  in  the  history  of  the  civil  war.     Iu  appearance,  he 
was  a  petite  Frenchman.    His  uniform  fitted  to  perfection, 
he  was  always  punctiliously  neat,  his  manners  were  fault- 
less and  deferential.     His  voice  was  pleasant  and  insinu- 
ating, with  a  perceptible  foreign  accent.     His  apprehen- 
sion was  quick,  his  observation  and  judgment  alert,  his 
expressions  terse  and  vigorous.     Like  many  of  our  other 
distinguished  soldiers,  especially  of  his  race,  he  was  fond 
of  the  society  of  the  gentler  sex,  and  at  his  best  when  in 
their  company. 


LIFE   AT  PETERSBURG  331 

General  A.  P.  Hill  was  the  opposite  of  General  Beau- 
regard in  appearance  and  in  manner.  He  was  of  the  old- 
fashioned  American  type  of  handsome  men.  He  was  what 
men  call  a  "  men's  man."  He  had  a  high  brow,  a  large 
nose  and  mouth,  and  his  face  was  covered  with  a  full, 
dark  beard.  He  dressed  plainly,  not  to  say  roughly.  He 
wore  a  woolen  shirt,  and  frequently  appeared,  especially 
in  action,  attired  in  a  shell  jacket.  About  his  uniform  he 
had  little  or  no  ornamentation,  hardly  more,  in  fact,  than 
the  insignia  of  rank  upon  his  collar.  Beauregard,  like  a 
true  Frenchman,  was  often  accompanied  by  a  full  staff. 
Hill,  on  the  other  hand,  appeared  to  care  little  for  a  staff. 
When  he  was  killed,  at  the  time  our  lines  were  broken 
and  Petersburg  evacuated,  although  he  was  a  lieutenant- 
general,  he  was  in  advance  of  his  line,  accompanied  by  a 
single  courier.  General  Hill  gave  the  impression  of  being 
reticent,  or,  at  any  rate,  uncommunicative.  Neither  in 
aspect  nor  manner  of  speech  did  he  appear  to  measure 
up  to  his  great  fighting  record.  Yet  great  it  was,  for  he 
enjoys  the  unique  distinction  of  having  been  named  by 
both  Lee  and  Jackson  during  the  delirium  of  their  last 
moments. 

When  Stonewall  was  unconscious  and  dying,  "  A.  P. 
Hill,  prepare  for  action,"  was  one  of  the  last  things  he 
said.  When,  long  after  the  war  had  ended,  General  Lee 
lay  unconscious,  breathing  his  last,  in  quiet  Lexington,  he 
exclaimed,  "  A.  P.  Hill  must  move  up."  A.  P.  Hill 
would  seem  to  have  been  the  one  to  whom  both  these 
great  leaders  turned  in  a  great  crisis,  as  if  feeling  that,  if 
he  could  not  save  the  situation,  nothing  could.  What 
nobler  tribute  from  his  commanders  could  a  soldier  wish  ? 
Yet,  illustrious  as  were  the  services  of  General  Hill,  I  do 
not  recall  ever  hearing  anybody  speak  of  a  close  intimacy 
with  him,  or  of  his  being  deeply  attached  to  any  individ- 


332  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

ual.  He  appeared  to  have  no  interest  in  the  fair  sex. 
His  soul  seemed  concentrated  and  absorbed  in  fighting. 
What  success  he  might  have  had  in  independent  com- 
mand, no  one  can  conjecture.  His  fame  rests  in  his  intel- 
ligent, tireless,  and  courageous-execution  of  the  commands 
of  Lee  and  Jackson,     ft  /^  / 

Dear  old  General  Ewell !  No  Southern  soldier  can  re- 
call his  name  without  a  flush  of  pride.  Posterity  will 
class  him,  under  Lee  and  Jackson,  with  men  like  Picton 
under  Wellington.  When  I  first  saw  him,  old  "  Fighting 
Dick,"  as  he  was  called,  had  lost  a  leg ;  but  he  was  still 
in  the  business  enthusiastically,  as  if  he  possessed  as  many 
legs  as  a  centipede.  He  was  attached  to  my  father.  Our 
families  were  intimate.  He  would  ride  up  to  our  quar- 
ters, and,  seated  on  horseback,  talk  by  the  hour  over  the 
military  and  political  outlook.  He  said  his  wooden  leg 
made  it  too  much  trouble  to  dismount  and  remount.  Re- 
moving his  hat  to  catch  the  summer  breezes,  he  displayed 
a  dome-like  head,  bald  at  the  top,  the  side-locks  brushed 
straight  forward  ;  his  fierce,  grizzled  mustaches  sticking 
up  and  sticking  out  like  those  about  the  muzzle  of  a  ter- 
rier. Fighting  was  beyond  question  the  ruling  passion  of 
his  life.  His  eye  had  the  expression  we  see  in  hawks  and 
gamecocks.  Yet  the  man's  nature,  in  every  domestic  and 
social  relation,  was  the  gentlest,  the  simplest,  the  most 
credulous  and  affectionate  imaginable.  He  was  small  of 
stature,  and  his  clothes,  about  which  he  was  indifferent, 
looked  as  if  made  for  a  larger  man.  Up  to  the  time  he 
lost  his  leg,  he  was  regarded  as  the  toughest  and  most  en- 
during man  in  the  army.  Not  by  any  means  an  ascetic, 
he  could,  upon  occasion,  march  as  long,  sleep  and  eat  as 
little,  and  work  as  hard,  as  the  great  Stonewall  himself. 

The  commander  of  Lee's  cavalry  at  this  time  was 
General  Wade  Hampton,  of  South  Carolina.     My  ideas 


LIFE   AT  PETERSBURG  333 

of  cavalrymen  had  been  derived  to  a  large  extent  from 
Lever's  troopers  in  "  Charles  O'Malley,"  one  of  the  most 
fascinating  books  ever  placed  in  the  hands  of  boys  with 
military  inclinations.  Jeb  Stuart's  leadership  of  the  Con- 
federate cavalry  had  elevated  that  ideal  somewhat,  without 
detracting  from  the  gallant,  devil-may-care  recklessness 
pervading  the  story  of  the  Irish  dragoon.  The  fighting 
morale  of  Stuart's  cavalry  was  nowise  impaired  under  the 
dashing  leadership  of  Hampton.  He  was  as  dauntless 
as  Stuart,  and,  if  anything,  a  more  distinguished-looking 
man.  Thoroughly  inured  to  fatigue  by  a  lifetime  spent 
in  the  saddle  or  in  the  field,  his  reputation  as  a  sports- 
man was  second  only  to  his  fame  as  a  cavalryman.  A 
born  aristocrat,  his  breeding  showed*  itself  in  every  fea- 
ture, word,  and  look.  Yet  his  manners  and  bearing  with 
the  troops  were  so  thoroughly  democratic,  and  his  fear- 
lessness in  action  so  conspicuous,  that  no  man  ever  excited 
more  enthusiasm.  He  rode  like  a  centaur,  and  possessed 
a  form  and  face  so  noble  that  men  vied  with  women  in 
admiration  of  General  Hampton. 

His  two  most  prominent  lieutenants  were  William 
Henry  Fitzhugh  Lee  and  Fitzhugh  Lee  ;  the  former  a 
son,  the  latter  a  nephew,  of  the  commander  of  the  army. 
These  cousins  were  strikingly  unlike. 

General  William  H.  F.  Lee,  familiarly  called  "  Rooney," 
had  lost  much  time  from  active  service.  He  was  captured 
early  in  1863,  and  detained  in  prison  until  about  May, 
1864.  Upon  his  return  to  active  service,  he  quickly  rees- 
tablished himself  by  energetic  work  ;  and  the  manner  in 
which  he  attacked  and  followed  up  General  Wilson  fixed 
upon  him  anew  the  affections  of  the  army.  He  was  an 
immense  man,  probably  six  feet  three  or  four  inches  tall ; 
and,  while  not  very  fleshy,  I  remember  that  I  wondered, 
when  I  first  saw  him,  how  he  could  find  a  horse  powerful 


334  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

enough  to  bear  him  upon  a  long  ride  !  In  youth,  he  had 
figured  as  stroke-oar  at  Harvard.  Although  of  abste- 
niious  habits,  his  complexion  was  florid.  His  hands  and 
feet  were  immense,  and  in  company  he  appeared  to  be 
ill  at  ease.  His  bearing  was,  however,  excellent,  and  his 
voice,  manner,  and  everything  about  him  bespoke  the 
gentleman.  Speaking  of  cavalry,  a  horse  simile  is  admis- 
sible. "  Rooney "  Lee,  contrasted  with  Hampton,  sug- 
gested a  Norman  Percheron  beside  a  thoroughbred ;  Gen- 
eral Fitzhugh  Lee,  a  pony-built  hunter.  I  have  known  all 
the  Lees  of  my  day  and  generation,  —  the  great  general,  his 
brothers,  his  sons,  nephews,  and  grandsons,  —  and  Gen- 
eral "  Rooney  "  Lee  I  regarded  and  esteemed  more  highly 
than  any  of  the  name,  except  his  father.  Yet  he  was  the 
least  showy  of  that  distinguished  family.  This  gentleman 
—  a  gentleman  always  and  everywhere  —  would  have 
made  a  more  conspicuous  reputation  in  the  cavalry,  if  the 
war  had  not  ended  so  soon  after  his  return  from  his  long 
imprisonment.  He  had  not  much  humor  in  his  composi- 
tion, although  keenly  appreciative  of  it  in  others.  He 
was  a  widower  in  1864,  and  nothing  of  a  society  man, 
although  a  gallant  admirer  of  women.  After  the  war,  he 
married  a  beautiful  descendant  of  Pocahontas,  Miss  Tabb 
Boiling,  of  Petersburg.  He  had  none  of  the  tricks  which 
gain  popularity,  but  somehow  he  grappled  to  him  the 
men  of  his  command  with  hooks  of  steel,  and  is  remem- 
bered by  his  veterans  with  as  much  affection  as  any  offi- 
cer in  Lee's  army. 

His  opposite  in  everything  but  courage  was  his  cousin, 
Fitzhugh  Lee,  called  "  Fitz  "  by  everybody.  Fitz  Lee 
combined  in  himself  not  only  the  blood  of  the  Lees,  but 
of  George  Mason,  one  of  the  greatest  of  our  Revolutionary 
leaders.  The  strain  of  jollity  pervading  him  probably 
came  from  the  Masons  ;  for  while  "  Light  Horse  Harry  " 


LIFE  AT  PETERSBURG  335 

was  in  his  day  a  rattling  blade,  the  Lees  were,  as  a  rule, 
quiet  folk.  His  father,  Commodore  Smith  Lee,  was  all 
gentleness  and  urbanity.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Masons, 
from  the  first  George  Mason,  of  Stafford,  who  sympa- 
thized with  Bacon  in  his  rebellion,  down  to  the  grand- 
father of  Fitz  Lee,  convey  the  impression  of  a  decided 
fondness  for  "  fighting,  fiddling,  and  fun."  Fitz  gradu- 
ated at  West  Point  in  1856,  more  distinguished  for  horse- 
manship than  anything  else.  Doubtless  he  might  have 
done  better  if  he  had  tried.  He  had  hosts  of  friends,  and 
no  end  of  enjoyment,  and  took  to  the  cavalry  as  a  duck 
does  to  water.  In  his  service  upon  the  plains  prior  to 
the  war,  an  Indian  found  his  short,  stout  thigh  a  good 
pincushion  for  a  feathered  arrow,  and  after  his  conva- 
lescence, he  was  assigned  to  duty  as  cavalry  instructor  at 
the  United  States  Military  Academy.  From  that  position 
he  resigned  at  the  outbreak  of  the  war.  He  was  now,  at 
the  age  of  twenty-nine,  a  brigadier-general,  a  bachelor, 
and  gay  cavalier  of  ladies. 

The  first  time  I  ever  saw  him  was  in  June,  1864,  in 
Richmond.  In  those  days  Third  Street,  leading  out  to 
the  pretty  heights  of  Gamble's  Hill,  was  the  favorite  even- 
ing promenade.  The  people  of  Richmond,  save  such  as 
visited  friends  in  the  country,  remained  in  town  through- 
out the  summer,  for  no  places  of  public  resort  were  open, 
and  nobody  had  the  means  to  go,  if  they  had  been 
open.  On  summer  nights  the  better  classes,  maid  and 
matron,  old  men,  high  officers,  soldiers,  boys  and  girls, 
strolled  back  and  forth  on  Third  Street  to  catch  the 
southern  breeze  upon  the  hill,  cooled  by  its  passage 
across  the  falls  of  the  James ;  to  watch  the  belching 
furnaces  of  the  Tredegar  cannon  foundry  on  the  river 
banks  below ;  and  to  listen  to  the  band  which  sometimes 
played  upon  the  hill.     While  thus  diverting  myself  one 


336  THE   END   OF  AN  ERA 

evening  with  a  party  of  young  friends,  we  saw  a  string 
of  cavalry  horses  held  in  front  of  the  residence  of  a  pro- 
minent citizen,  and,  as  we  approached,  heard  the  sound 
of  a  piano,  accompanied  by  a  male  and  a  female  voice, 
singing  "  The  Gypsy  Countess."  The  curtains  of  the 
parlor  were  drawn  back  to  relieve  the  intense  sultriness, 
and  the  party  was  visible  from  the  street.  A  strong,  deep 
voice  sang  the  familiar  part  of  the  duet,  — "  Come,  fly 
with  me  now."  The  sweet  answer  was  returned  in  female 
notes,  "  Can  I  trust  to  thy  vow  ?  "  Then  the  two  warbled 
the  refrain  together,  and  the  performance  finally  con- 
cluded amid  merry  laughter  and  vigorous  applause. 

The  performance  was  varied  by  the  appearance  of  a 
cavafryman  with  his  banjo.  He  gave  them  some  jingling 
music,  which  sent  everybody's  blood  bounding.  Knowing 
the  host,  we  felt  no  hesitation  about  joining  the  party 
of  onlookers  upon  the  portico,  and  there  we  beheld  Fitz 
Lee  with  his  staff,  making  a  jolly  night  of  it  as  they 
passed  through  Richmond  on  their  way  to  Petersburg. 
The  house  was  the  home  of  one  of  his  favorite  young 
staff  officers,  whose  sister  was  Fitz  Lee's  partner  in  the 
duet.  In  appearance,  General  Lee  was  short,  thickset, 
already  inclined  to  stoutness ;  with  a  square  head  and 
short  neck  upon  broad  shoulders,  a  merry  eye,  and  a  joy- 
ous voice  of  great  power ;  ruddy,  full-bearded,  and  over- 
flowing with  animal  spirits.  At  last  the  banjo  struck  up 
his  favorite  air :  — 

"  If  you  want  to  have  a  good  time, 
Jine  the  cavalry, 
Jine  the  cavalry, 
Jine  the  cavalry." 

Fitz  and  staff  joined  in  the  refrain  with  mighty  zest, 
making  the  house  ring  with  their  hilarity. 

This  over,  they  announced  their  departure  for  Peters- 


LIFE   AT   PETERSBURG  337 

buro",  and  a  mighty  hubbub  they  made.  The  ladies  of 
the  house  and  the  young  girls  brought  food  and  dainties 
for  their  haversacks,  and  wearing  apparel  for  use  in 
camp  :  the  packing  of  these  stores  took  place  in  the  hall- 
way, and  then  followed  the  farewells.  It  was  "  Good-by, 
Lucy,"  "  Good-by,  Mary,"  "  Good-by,  Jennie,"  and  Fitz 
Lee  must  have  been  kin  to  a  great  many  of  those 
pretty  girls.  His  young  staff  officer  kissed  his  mother 
and  sister  farewell ;  Fitz  Lee,  true  to  his  cavalry  instincts, 
began  kissing  also ;  this  doubtless  inspired  his  young 
captain  to  extend  like  courtesies  to  visitors  as  well  as 
the  family,  and  wherever  he  led,  Fitz  followed.  By  the 
time  their  plunder  had  been  placed  upon  their  steeds,  and 
they,  with  jangling  spurs,  had  scrambled  to  their  saddles, 
Fitz  Lee  and  staff  had  taken  "  cavalry  toll "  from  every 
pretty  girl  in  sight.  Finally,  with  many  fond  adieus  and 
waving  plumes,  they  rode  away  down  Cary  Street,  their 
mounted  ban  joist  playing  the  air,  and  they  singing  in 
chorus,  —  "  If  you  want  to  have  a  good  time,  jine  the 
cavalry." 

They  passed  over  the  bridge  across  the  James,  their 
route  to  Petersburg  illuminated  by  the  harvest  moon,  and 
a  day  or  two  afterwards  were  making  it  very  uncomfort- 
able for  General  Wilson  at  Reams's  Station.  In  later 
days,  General  Fitz  and  I  were  political  opponents,  but 
that  fact  never  obliterated  my  affectionate  remembrance 
of  his  merry,  gallant  cavalry  leadership,  or  of  the  debt 
I  owe  him  for  the  noble  tribute  he  has  placed  upon 
record  to  my  father's  unflinching  courage  upon  the  re- 
treat, and  until  the  last  gun  was  fired  at  Appomattox. 

Less  conspicuous  than  Hampton  and  the  Lees  was  the 
cavalry  brigadier-general,  Deering.  "  Jim  "  Deering,  as 
everybody  called  him,  was  a  very  young  man ;  if  I  mis- 
take not,  he  was  a  second-class  man  at  West  Point  when 


338  THE  END   OF   AN   ERA 

the  war  broke  out ;  yet,  when  killed  upon  the  retreat  from 
Petersburg,  he  had  risen  to  the  command  of  a  brigade. 
He  was  a  man  of  remarkable  health  and  strength  and 
courage,  with  a  multitude  of  friends.  Pursuing  the 
horse  simile,  under  which  the  three  others  have  been 
grouped,  he  may  be  likened  to  a  promising  colt  of  fault- 
less breeding,  with  a  brilliant  record  in  his  first  year's 
performance.  Deering  was  too  young  when  killed  to  be 
classed  among  the  great  leaders,  but  was  a  youngster  of 
unusual  military  instinct. 

Returning  to  the  infantry,  there  was  Pickett,  whose 
name  is  linked  forever  with  that  of  Gettysburg.  Pickett 
was  a  striking  figure :  he  was  a  tawny  man,  of  medium 
height  and  of  stout  build ;  his  long  yellow  hair  was 
thick,  hanging  about  his  ears  and  shoulders,  suggestive 
of  a  lion's  mane.  He  was  blue-eyed,  with  white  eye- 
lashes, florid  complexion,  and  reddish  mustache  and  im- 
perial emphasizing  his  blonde  appearance ;  he  was  of  the 
Saxon  type.  Pickett  was  a  gentleman  by  birth.  He  had 
a  great  number  of  relatives  and  friends  in  Richmond  and 
in  the  James  River  section ;  they  were  justly  proud  of 
his  military  career.  He  was  a  high  and  a  free  liver,  and 
often  declared  that,  to  fight  like  a  gentleman,  a  man  must 
eat  and  drink  like  a  gentleman.  General  Lee  was  a 
very  prudent  and  abstemious  man  himself,  but  never 
censorious  touching  the  mode  of  life  of  his  inferiors 
when  they  discharged  the  duties  assigned  to  them.  In 
this  respect  he  was  different  from  Stonewall  Jackson, 
who  rather  expected  those  under  his  command  to  conform 
to  his  simple  mode  of  life.  Pickett  was  a  trained  soldier 
and  loved  fighting.  Fitz  Lee  tells  a  characteristic  anec- 
dote of  him  :  As  he  rode  into  the  fight  at  Gettysburg,  in 
passing  General  Lee  he  cried  out,  pointing  to  the  front, 
"  Come  on,  Fitz,  and  go  with  us ;    we  shall  have  lots  of 


LIFE  AT  PETERSBURG  339 

fun  there  presently."  It  was  an  odd  sort  of  fun  he  had 
that  day ;  but  I  have  no  doubt  it  was  the  life  in  which  he 
was  happiest. 

I  have  already  described  Mahone,  and  now  come  to 
John  B.  Gordon,  of  Georgia,  a  division  commander  under 
General  Lee,  who  had  attained  marked  distinction  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  he  was  not  a  West  Pointer.  Gor- 
don is  still  alive,  and  not  appreciably  changed  from  what 
he  was  in  '64 ;  he  was  then  a  tall,  spare-built  young 
fellow,  of  very  military  bearing,  his  handsome  face 
adorned  by  a  deep  gash  received  in  one  of  the  battles  of 
the  valley.  The  military  genius  of  General  Gordon  was 
never  tested  in  any  independent  command,  but  his  fear- 
lessness and  eagerness  to  assail  the  enemy,  whenever  and 
wherever  he  was  ordered  to  do  so,  made  him  one  of  the 
most  conspicuous  and  popular  commanders  under  General 
Lee.  Wherever  he  appeared,  the  soldiers  flocked  about 
him  and  cheered  him  ;  wherever  he  commanded,  they  felt 
confident  of  hot  work ;  and  wherever  he  led  (he  never 
followed),  the  soldiers  were  willing  to  go,  because  they 
had  sublime  faith  in  his  fidelity  and  courage.  We  often 
saw  General  Gordon,  who  was  a  warm  admirer  of  my 
father  ;  and  to  this  day  I  delight  to  honor  him  as  one  of 
the  truest  and  bravest  of  Lee's  lieutenants. 

It  has  always  seemed  to  me  that  sufficient  recognition 
is  not  given  to  the  great  service  rendered  by  the  artillery. 
This  is  probably  due  to  the  fact  that  it  is  under  the 
command  and  direction  of  some  general  officer,  who  re- 
ceives credit  for  success.  Then,  too,  the  numbers  of  the 
artillery  are  not  sufficient  to  attract  attention,  as  in  the 
case  of  cavalry  or  infantry,  when,  in  large  bodies,  they 
are  conspicuously  courageous.  General  Lee's  chief  of 
artillery,  General  Long,  is  seldom  heard  of  in  the  accounts 
of  the  fighting  about  Petersburg,  and  although  artillery 


340  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

played  a  prominent  part  in  every  engagement,  the  com 
manders  are  seldom  spoken  of,  while  infantry  and  cav 
airy  officers  are  noticed  conspicuously.  No  general  eve] 
commanded  a  finer  body  of  young  artillery  officers  thai 
General  Lee.  Alexander,  Pegram,  Haskell,  Carter,  Brax 
ton,  Parker,  Sturtevant,  Breathitt,  and  a  number  of  other: 
I  might  name,  were  counted  as  the  very  flower  of  th( 
army.  Yet  they  are  gradually  disappearing  from  view  ii 
the  prominence  given  to  the  officers  in  higher  command. 

Colonel  William  J.  Pegram  was  the  most  picturesque 
figure  among  these  many  distinguished  artillerists.  With 
out  early  militai-y  training,  save  in  our  littJp  boy-sole* 'ei 
company  in  Richmond,  he  entered  the  servi6o  3  a 
vate,  and  by  his  pronounced  courage  and  military  talents 
became  a  colonel  at  the  age  of  twenty-one,  and  was  killed 
at  the  age  of  twenty-three  years,  when  his  promotion  tc 
brigadier-general  had  been  ordered.  Pegram  was  a  boyish- 
looking  fellow,  very  near-sighted,  and,  with  his  gold  spec 
tacles  and  clean-shaven  face,  looked  more  like  a  student  oi 
divinity  than  a  soldier.  He  was  reticent,  modest,  but  ol 
boundless  ambition.  He  had  indulged  in  none  of  the  dis 
sipations  of  youth,  and  was  extremely  pious.  He  loved 
fighting,  feared  nothing,  and  was  an  exacting  disciplina 
rian.  General  Lee,  while  undemonstrative  in  most  things 
regarded  "  Willie "  Pegram,  as  everybody  called  him. 
with  undisguised  affection  and  pride. 

John  Haskell,  of  South  Carolina,  was  another  of  his  ar 
tillery  paladins,  who  was  never  so  happy  as  when  standing 
amid  the  smoke  of  his  own  batteries.  To  him  primarily 
was  due  in  a  great  measure  the  saving  of  Lee's  army  al 
the  crater  fight.  But  I  must  pass  from  the  description  ol 
these  lesser  lights  to  one  who,  like  Saul,  towered,  from 
his  shoulders  and  upward,  tallest  among  all  the  people. 

It  is  impossible  to  speak  of  General  Lee  without  seem- 


LIFE   AT   PETERSBURG  341 

ing  to  deal  in  hyperbole.  He  had  assumed  command  of 
the  Virginia  army  under  peculiar  circumstances.  It  had 
been  organized  at  Manassas  in  '61  under  Beauregard  and 
Joseph  E.  Johnston.  In  the  winter  of  '61  and  '62,  it  had 
been  transferred  to  the  peninsula  between  the  York  and 
the  James,  still  under  the  command  of  General  Johnston. 
Under  him  it  retreated  towards  Richmond,  and  he  re- 
mained in  command  until  wounded  in  the  battle  of  Seven 
Pines.  General  Johnston  had  inspired  the  army  with 
great  confidence  in  his  ability,  and  undoubtedly  possessed 
the  quality  of  securing  the  deep  and  abiding  faith  and 
affection  of  his  troops.     During   the    period   above   de- 

('ibrd  ineral  Lee  had  not  gained  ground  in  public 
t^eem.  In  '61,  he  had  been  assigned  to  the  command 
and  direction  of  those  impossible  campaigns  in  West  Vir- 
ginia from  which  he  had  emerged  with  a  loss  of  prestige. 
They  failed,  as  any  campaign  must  have  done  in  such 
a  country.  Whether  or  not  due  allowance  was  made  for 
conditions,  in  judging  of  Lee's  ability,  need  not  be  dis- 
cussed. Suffice  it  to  say,  that  after  the  termination  of 
the  West  Virginia  campaign,  General  Lee  was  sent  to 
Charleston,  where  he  was  engaged  in  strengthening  the 
fortifications  until  Majr,  1862,  and  that  in  June  accident 
called  him  to  the  command  of  the  army  about  Richmond. 

It  is  no  disparagement  of  General  Lee  to  say  that  there 
were  many  who,  at  the  time,  regarded  the  wounding  of 
General  Johnston  as  a  profound  misfortune.  But  it  was 
not  long  before  Lee  established  himself  in  the  affection 
and  confidence  of  that  army,  and  took  a  place  never  occu- 
pied by  any  one  else.  Before  the  last  gun  fired  at  Mal- 
vern Hill,  at  the  close  of  the  seven  days'  fighting,  the 
army  had  become  known  as  Lee's  army.  It  never  had 
another  name,  and  as  such  it  will  go  down  to  history. 

I  have  seen  many  pictures  of  General  Lee,  but  never 


342  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

one  that  conveyed  a  correct  impression  of  his  appearance. 
Above  the  ordinary  size,  his  proportions  were  perfect. 
His  form  had  fullness,  without  any  appearance  of  super- 
fluous flesh,  and  was  as  erect  as  that  of  a  cadet,  without 
the  slightest  apparent  constraint.  His  features  are  too 
well  known  to  need  description,  but  no  representation  of 
General  Lee  which  I  have  ever  seen  properly  conveys  the 
light  and  softness  of  his  eye,  the  tenderness  and  intellectu- 
ality of  his  mouth,  or  the  indescribable  refinement  of  his 
face.  One  picture  gives  him  a  meatiness  about  the  nose  ; 
another,  hard  or  coarse  lines  about  the  mouth ;  another, 
heaviness  about  the  chin.  None  of  them  give  the  effect 
of  his  hair  and  beard.  I  have  seen  all  the  great  men  of 
our  times,  except  Mr.  Lincoln,  and  have  no  hesitation  in 
saying  that  Robert  E.  Lee  was  incomparably  the  greatest- 
looking  man  I  ever  saw.  I  say  the  greatest-looking.  By 
this  I  do  not  mean  to  provoke  discussion  whether  he 
was,  in  fact,  the  greatest  man  of  his  age.  One  thing  is, 
however,  certain.  Every  man  in  that  army  believed  that 
Robert  E.  Lee  was  the  greatest  man  alive,  and  their  faith 
in  him  alone  kept  that  army  together  during  the  last  six 
months  of  its  existence. 

There  was  nothing  of  the  pomp  or  panoply  of  war  about 
the  headquarters,  or  the  military  government,  or  the  bear- 
ing, of  General  Lee.  The  place  selected  as  his  headquar- 
ters was  unpretentious.  The  officers  of  his  staff  had  none 
of  the  insolence  of  martinets.  Oddly  enough,  the  three 
most  prominent  members  of  his  staff  —  Colonel  Venable, 
Colonel  Marshall,  and  Colonel  Walter  Taylor  —  were 
not  even  West  Pointers.  Persons  having  business  with 
his  headquarters  were  treated  like  human  beings,  and 
courtesy,  considerateness,  and  even  deference  were  shown 
to  the  humblest.  He  had  no  gilded  retinue,  but  a  devoted 
band  of  simple  scouts  and  couriers,  who,  in  their  quietness 


LIFE   AT   PETERSBURG  343 

and  simplicity,  modeled  themselves  after  him.  General 
Lee  as  often  rode  out  to  consult  with  his  subordinates  as 
he  sent  for  them  to  come  to  him.  The  sight  of  him  upon 
the  roadside,  or  in  the  trenches,  was  as  common  as  that 
of  any  subordinate  in  the  army.  When  he  approached  or 
disappeared,  it  was  with  no  blare  of  trumpets  or  clank 
of  equipments.  Mounted  upon  his  historic  war-horse 
"  Traveler,"  he  ambled  quietly  about,  keeping  his  eye 
upon  everything  pertaining  to  the  care  and  defense  of 
his  army.  "  Traveler  "  was  no  pedigreed,  wide-nostriled, 
gazelle-eyed  thoroughbred.  He  was  a  close-coupled, 
round-barreled,  healthy,  comfortable,  gentleman's  saddle- 
horse.  Gray,  with  black  points,  he  was  sound  in  eye, 
wind,  and  limb,  without  strain,  sprain,  spavin,  or  secretion 
of  any  sort ;  ready  to  go,  and  able  to  stay ;  and  yet  with- 
out a  single  fancy  trick,  or  the  pretentious  bearing  of 
the  typical  charger.  He  was  a  horse  bought  by  General 
Lee  during  his  West  Virginia  campaign. 

When  General  Lee  rode  up  to  our  headquarters,  or 
elsewhere,  he  came  as  unostentatiously  as  if  he  had  been 
the  head  of  a  plantation,  riding  over  his  fields  to  inquire 
and  give  directions  about  ploughing  or  seeding.  He  ap- 
peared to  have  no  mighty  secrets  concealed  from  his  sub- 
ordinates. He  assumed  no  airs  of  superior  authority.  He 
repelled  no  kindly  inquiries,  and  was  capable  of  jocular 
remarks.  He  did  not  hold  himself  aloof  in  solitary  gran- 
deur. His  bearing  was  that  of  a  friend  having  a  common 
interest  in  a  common  venture  with  the  person  addressed, 
and  as  if  he  assumed  that  his  subordinate  was  as  deeply 
concerned  as  himself  in  its  success.  Whatever  greatness 
was  accorded  to  him  was  not  of  his  own  seeking.  He  was 
less  of  an  actor  than  any  man  I  ever  saw.  But  the  im- 
pression which  that  man  made  by  his  presence,  and  by  his 
leadership,  upon  all  who  came  in  contact  with  him,  can  be 


344  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

described  by  no  other  term  than  that  of  grandeur.  When 
I  have  stood  at  evening,  and  watched  the  great  clouds 
banked  in  the  west,  and  tinged  by  evening  sunlight ; 
when,  on  the  Western  plains,  I  have  looked  at  the  peaks 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains  outlined  against  the  sky  ;  when, 
in  mid-ocean,  I  have  seen  the  limitless  waters  encircling 
us,  unbounded  save  by  the  infinite  horizon,  —  the  gran- 
deur, the  vastness  of  these  have  invariably  suggested 
thoughts  of  General  Robert  E.  Lee.  Certain  it  is  that  the 
Confederacy  contained  no  other  man  like  him.  When  its 
brief  career  was  ended,  in  him  was  centred,  as  in  no  other 
man,  the  trust,  the  love,  almost  the  worship,  of  those  who 
remained  steadfast  to  the  end.  When  he  said  that  the 
career  of  the  Confederacy  was  ended  ;  that  the  hope  of 
an  independent  government  must  be  abandoned  ;  that  all 
had  been  done  which  mortals  could  accomplish  against  the 
power  of  overwhelming  numbers  and  resources  ;  and  that 
the  duty  of  the  future  was  to  abandon  the  dream  of  a  con- 
federacy, and  to  render  a  new  and  cheerful  allegiance  to 
a  reunited  government,  —  his  utterances  were  accepted  as 
true  as  Holy  Writ.  No  other  human  being  upon  earth, 
no  other  earthly  power,  could  have  produced  such  acquies- 
cence, or  could  have  compelled  such  prompt  acceptance 
of  that  final  and  irreversible  judgment. 

Of  General  Lee's  military  greatness,  absolute  or  rela- 
tive, I  shall  not  speak ;  of  his  moral  greatness  I  need  not. 
The  former,  in  view  of  the  conditions  with  which  he  was 
hampered,  must  leave  a  great  deal  to  speculation  and  con- 
jecture ;  the  latter  is  acknowledged  by  all  the  world.  The 
man  who  could  so  stamp  his  impress  upon  his  nation,  ren- 
dering all  others  insignificant  beside  him,  and  yet  die 
without  an  enemy  ;  the  soldier  who  could  make  love  for 
his  person  a  substitute  for  pay  and  clothing  and  food,  and 
could,  by  the  constraint  of  that  love,  hold  together  a  naked, 


LIFE   AT   PETERSBURG  345 

starving  band,  and  transform  it  into  a  fighting  army ; 
the  heart  which,  after  the  failure  of  its  great  endeavor, 
could  break  in  silence,  and  die  without  the  utterance  of 
one  word  of  bitterness,  —  such  a  man,  such  a  soldier,  such 
a  heart,  must  have  been  great  indeed,  —  great  beyond  the 
power  of  eulogy. 

Not  in  five  hundred  years  does  the  opportunity  come 
to  any  boy,  I  care  not  who  he  may  be,  to  witness  scenes 
like  these,  or  live  in  daily  contact  with  men  whose  names 
will  endure  as  long  as  man  loves  military  glory. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  CRATER 

Much  of  the  month  of  July  we  passed  in  the  trenches. 
Father  was  in  command  of  Petersburg,  and  Colonel  J. 
Thomas  Goode  commanded  the  brigade,  but  we  visited  it 
almost  daily.  It  was  assigned  to  Bushrod  Johnson's  divi- 
sion, and  our  position  was  next  to  the  South  Carolinians 
under  Elliott.  Our  left  was  about  a  hundred  yards  south 
of  a  bastion  known  as  Elliott's  salient. 

Life  in  the  trenches  was  indescribably  monotonous  and 
uncomfortable.  In  time  of  sunshine,  the  reflected  heat 
from  the  new  red-clay  embankments  was  intense,  and  un- 
relieved by  shade  or  breeze ;  and  in  wet  weather  one  was 
ankle-deep  in  tough,  clinging  mud.  The  incessant  shell- 
ing and  picket-firing  made  extreme  caution  necessary  in 
moving  about ;  and  each  day,  almost  each  hour,  added  to 
the  list  of  casualties.  The  opposing  lines  were  not  over 
two  hundred  yards  apart,  and  the  distance  between  the 
rifle-pits  was  about  one  hundred  yards.  Both  sides  had 
attained  accurate  marksmanship,  which  they  practiced 
with  merciless  activity  in  picking  off  men.  One  may 
fancy  the  state  of  mind  of  soldiers  thus  confined,  who 
knew  that  even  the  act  of  going  to  a  spring  for  water 
involved  risk  of  life  or  limb. 

The  men  resorted  to  many  expedients  to  secure  some 
degree  of  comfort  and  protection.  They  learned  to  bur- 
row like  conies.  Into  the  sides  of  the  trenches  and  trav- 
erses they  went  with  bayonet  and  tin  cups  to  secure  shade 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  CRATER       347 

or  protection  from  rain.  Soon,  such  was  their  proficiency 
that,  at  sultry  midday  or  during  a  rainfall,  one  might  look 
up  or  down  the  trenches  without  seeing  anybody  but  the 
sentinel.  At  sound  of  the  drum,  the  heads  of  the  soldiers 
would  pop  up  and  out  of  the  earth,  as  if  they  had  been 
prairie-dogs  or  gophers.  Still,  many  lives  were  lost  by 
the  indifference  to  danger  which  is  begotten  by  living 
constantly  in  its  presence. 

To  appreciate  fully  the  truth  that  men  are  but  children 
of  a  larger  growth,  one  must  have  commanded  soldiers. 
Without  constant  guidance  and  government  and  punish- 
ment, they  become  careless  about  clothes,  food,  ammuni- 
tion, cleanliness,  and  even  personal  safety.  They  will  at 
once  eat  or  throw  away  the  rations  furnished  for  several 
days,  never  considering  the  morrow.  They  will  cast  aside 
or  give  away  their  clothing  because  to-day  is  warm,  never 
calculating  that  to-morrow  they  may  be  suffering  for  the 
lack  of  it.  They  will  open  their  cartridge-boxes  and  dump 
their  cartridges  on  the  roadside  to  lighten  their  load, 
although  a  few  hours  later  their  lives  may  depend  upon 
having  a  full  supply.  When  they  draw  their  pay,  their 
first  object  is  to  find  some  way  to  get  rid  of  it  as  quickly 
as  possible.  An  officer,  to  be  really  efficient,  must  add 
to  the  qualities  of  courage  and  firmness  those  of  nurse, 
monitor,  and  purveyor  for  grown-up  children,  in  whom  the 
bumps  of  improvidence  and  destructiveness  are  abnormally 
developed. 

Thus,  in  spite  of  warnings  and  threat  of  punishment 
for  failure  to  approach  and  depart  from  the  lines  by  the 
protected  covered  ways,  it  was  impossible  to  make  the 
men  observe  these  reasonable  precautions.  For  a  long 
time  they  had  been  shot  at,  night  and  day.  A  man,  be- 
cause he  had  not  been  hit,  would  soon  come  to  regard 
himself  as  invulnerable.     The  fact  that  his  comrades  had 


'48  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

een  killed  or  wounded  appeared  to  make  little  impres- 
sion upon  him.  Past  immunity  made  him  so  confident 
that  he  would  walk  coolly  over  the  same  exposed  ground 
where  somebody  else  had  been  shot  the  day  before.  The 
"spat,"  "whiz,''  "zip"  of  hostile  bullets  would  not  even 
make  him  quicken  his  pace.  Mayhap  he  would  take  his 
short  pipe  out  of  his  mouth  and  yell  defiantly,  "  Ah-h  — 
Yank — yer — kain't  —  shoot,"  and  go  on  his  way  tempt- 
ing fate,  until  a  bullet  struck  him  and  he  was  dead,  or 
maimed  for  life.  At  times  I  questioned  whether  these 
soldiers  were  not  really  seeking  relief  by  death  or  wounds 
from  the  torture  of  such  intolerable  life.  It  was  enough 
to  make  men  mad  and  reckless. 

Occasionally  we  had  suspension  of  firing.  At  such  times 
even  ladies  visited  the  trenches.  I  recall  particularly  one 
party  of  pretty  girls  who  came  over  from  Richmond,  rode 
out  on  horseback  to  a  point  in  rear  of  our  position,  and, 
dismounting,  advanced  boldly  across  the  exposed  ground, 
and  stood  for  some  time  on  our  parapets  watching  the 
Union  lines.  The  intrenchments  of  the  enemy  were  lined 
with  soldiers  sunning  themselves,  or  engaged  in  a  favorite 
occupation  familiar  to  all  old  soldiers,  but  not  to  be  de- 
scribed in  polite  literature.  "  Hello,  Johnnie  !  it 's  ladies' 
day,  ain't  it  ?  "  called  out  a  fellow  from  a  rifle-pit,  when 
he  saw  the  riding-habits  outlined  against  the  sky. 

We  often  talked  to  each  other.  Sometimes  our  con- 
versation was  civil  and  kindly  enough.  Sometimes  it 
was  facetious.  At  others  it  was  of  the  grossest  and  most 
unmentionable  character.  On  an  occasion  like  this, 
the  presence  of  ladies  was  greeted  as  a  high  compliment 
by  our  men,  and  accepted  by  the  enemy  as  gratifying 
evidence  of  our  confidence  in  their  good  faith.  By 
both  sides  the  fair  visitors  were  treated  with  the  utmost 
deference. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  CRATER        349 

A  truce  like  that  described  would  be  terminated  by- 
some  one  calling  out  from  the  rifle-pits  that  orders  had 
come  to  reopen  fire  at  a  designated  time,  sufficiently  remote 
to  allow  everybody  to  seek  cover.  When  the  hour  arrived, 
at  it  again  they  would  go,  as  fiercely  as  ever.  The  follow- 
ing incident  will  convey  some  idea  of  the  precision  of 
marksmanship  attained  by  constant  practice.  It  was  told 
me  repeatedly  by  Isaac  Newman,  one  of  the  most  fearless 
and  truthful  men  I  ever  knew.  He  was  the  survivor  of 
the  episode.  Newman  and  a  comrade,  whose  name  was 
Blake,  I  think,  were  detailed  as  sharpshooters  in  one  of 
the  rifle-pits  in  our  front.  Sharpshooters  were  posted  and 
relieved  at  night,  and  but  once  in  twenty-four  hours.  The 
attempt  to  reach  or  return  from  a  rifle-pit  in  the  daytime 
would  have  been  followed  by  certain  death.  The  pit  was 
a  hole  in  the  ground  large  enough  to  contain  two  men. 
A  curtain  of  earth  was  thrown  up  in  front,  with  a  narrow 
embrasure  through  which  to  fire.  On  the  inside  was  a 
small  banquette  in  front,  upon  which  the  men  could  sit 
or  kneel  when  firing.  Newman  and  Blake  were  reckless 
and  resourceful  chaps.  They  hit  upon  the  device  of  tak- 
ing a  small  looking-glass  into  the  pit  with  them.  This 
they  hung  opposite  the  embrasure. 

By  this  arrangement  they  could  sit  on  the  banquette, 
with  their  backs  to  the  enemy,  and  see  in  the  looking- 
glass  all  that  was  going  on  in  front,  without  exposing  their 
heads.  They  were  inveterate  card-players.  Neither  had 
any  money,  but  for  stakes  they  used  square  bits  of  tobacco 
cut  the  size  of  a  "  chaw."  This  was  high  stakes  for  Con- 
federate soldiers.  With  a  greasy,  well-thumbed  pack  of 
playing-cards,  they  indulged  in  the  excitement  of  seven-up 
for  several  hours.  The  stakes  were  placed,  and  the  cards 
thrown  down  upon  the  part  of  the  banquette  which 
lay  between  them  under  the  embrasure.     As  the  game 


350  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

proceeded,  both  congratulated  themselves  that  they  had 
discovered  a  device  and  diversion  which  made  life  in  a 
rifle-pit  comparatively  safe  and  endurable.  Instead  of 
craning  and  peeping  on  the  lookout,  all  that  was  neces- 
sary was  to  cast  a  glance  now  and  then  at  the  looking- 
glass.  Occasionally,  one  or  the  other  would  stick  his  cap 
on  the  end  of  a  gun,  and  put  it  up  above  the  breastwork, 
and  some  watchful  sharpshooter  would  bang  away  at  it. 
After  a  while,  Newman,  who  had  lost  all  his  tobacco,  see- 
ing his  last  chew  was  to  be  won  by  Blake,  snatched  the 
stakes,  and  stuck  a  chew  into  his  mouth.  This  was  fol- 
lowed by  some  friendly  scuffling  and  horse-play,  in  the 
course  of  which  Blake's  head  was  incautiously  exposed 
for  an  instant  at  the  embrasure.  It  was  for  but  a  mo- 
ment, but  that  moment  was  fatal.  Zip !  spat !  came  a 
bullet,  quick  as  a  flash.  It  crashed  through  poor  Blake's 
temples  and  broke  the  looking-glass.  Newman  was  left 
in  the  pit  with  the  dead  body  of  Blake  until  midnight. 
When  relieved,  he  returned  to  the  lines  bearing  the  re- 
mains of  his  friend  upon  his  shoulders. 

In  telling  this  story,  Newman  always  followed  it  by 
adding  that  he  believed  the  man  who  killed  Blake  had  a 
personal  grudge  against  him,  because  the  next  morning  he 
made  a  pot  of  coffee,  the  last  he  had,  and  set  it  on  the 
parapet  to  cool ;  and  just  as  he  reached  up  for  it,  a  shot, 
fired  from  the  same  rifle-pit  whence  Blake  had  been  killed, 
struck  the  coffee-pot,  and  emptied  its  scalding  contents 
down  his  jacket  sleeve. 

When  our  troops  first  manned  the  lines,  the  things  most 
dreaded  were  the  great  mortar-shells.  They  were  partic- 
ularly terrible  at  night.  Their  parabolas  through  the  air 
were  watched  with  intense  apprehension,  and  their  explo- 
sion seemed  to  threaten  annihilation.  Within  a  week, 
they  had  ceased  to  occasion  any  other  feeling  among  the 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  CRATER        351 

men  than  a  desire  to  secure  their  fragments.  They  had 
learned  to  fear  more  danger  from  minie  balls  than  from 
moi'tar-shells.  There  was  little  chance  of  a  shell's  falling: 
upon  the  men,  for  they  could  see  it  and  get  out  of  the 
way.  Unless  it  did  actually  strike  some  one  in  its  descent, 
the  earth  was  so  tunneled  and  pitted  that  it  was  apt  to  fall 
into  some  depression,  where  its  fragments  would  be  stopped 
and  rendered  harmless  by  the  surrounding  walls  of  dirt. 
Iron  was  becoming  scarce.  As  inducement  to  collecting 
scrap-iron  for  our  cannon  foundries,  furloughs  were 
offered,  a  day  for  so  many  pounds  collected.  Thus,  gath- 
ering fragments  of  shell  became  an  active  industry  among 
the  troops.  So  keen  was  their  quest  that  sometimes  they 
would  start  towards  the  point  where  a  mortar-shell  fell, 
even  before  it  exploded. 

Such  was  life  in  the  trenches  before  Petersburg.  Look- 
ing back  at  it  now,  one  wonders  that  everybody  was  not 
killed,  or  did  not  die  from  exposure.  But,  at  the  time,  no 
man  there  personally  expected  to  be  killed,  and  there  was 
something  —  nobody  can  define  what  it  was  —  which  made 
the  experience  by  no  means  so  horrible  as  it  now  seems. 
I  doubt  if  all  these  little  things  made  such  deep  impres- 
sions upon  older  men.  I  was  very  young,  very  much  inter- 
ested, and,  being  without  defined  duties  or  command, 
could  come  and  go  as  I  saw  fit ;  and  so,  I  fancy,  it  was 
not  so  irksome  to  me  as  it  must  have  been  to  those  more 
restrained. 

All  during  the  month  of  July,  the  fact  that  the  enemy 
was  mining  in  our  front  was  discussed  and  accepted  by 
the  troops.  How  soldiers  get  their  information  is  one  of 
the  mysteries  of  the  service,  yet  they  are  often  in  posses- 
sion of  more  accurate  knowledge  than  those  high  in  au- 
thority. For  some  time  the  reports  about  the  mine  were 
exceedingly  vague.     More   than   one  Union  picket  had 


352  THE  END   OF   AN  ERA 

hinted  at  a  purpose  to  "  send  you  to  Heaven  soon,"  or 
threatened  that  they  were  "  going  to  blow  you  up  next 
week."  For  some  time,  no  less  than  three  salients  were 
discussed  as  the  possible  points.  Our  engineers  had  some 
sort  of  information,  for  countermining  was  begun  at  all 
these  salients ;  but,  for  some  unknown  reason,  it  was 
abandoned.  Their  information  must,  however,  have  been 
more  or  less  definite  concerning  the  Elliott  salient,  for, 
while  they  abandoned  countermining,  they  did  erect  a 
gorge  line,  or  retrenched  cavalier,  at  this  point,  and  planted 
batteries  of  eight  and  ten  inch  Coehorn  mortars  bearing 
upon  the  spot.  The  gorge  line  was  a  curved  line  of  para- 
pet in  rear  of  the  salient,  connecting  with  the  main  line 
of  our  breastworks  ;  so  that,  if  the  salient  should  be  blown 
up,  our  troops  could  occupy  the  gorge  line  in  rear,  and 
resist  an  assault  at  the  breach.  Placing  the  Coehorn  mor- 
tars so  as  to  command  the  salient  showed  that  the  explo- 
sion was  apprehended.  And  these  evidences  of  knowledge 
made  it  all  the  more  surprising  that  the  men  and  guns 
in  this  salient  were  not  removed  back  to  the  gorge  line  in 
time  to  save  them.  Whatever  doubts  the  engineers  may 
have  felt,  the  privates  knew  where  the  works  were  being 
mined.  Elliott's  men  told  the  fellows  on  the  left  of  our 
brigade  all  about  it  long  before  the  explosion.  Our  men 
would  go  down  there,  and,  lying  on  the  ground  with 
Elliott's  men,  would  listen  to  the  work  going  on  below, 
and  come  back  and  tell  all  about  it. 

About  daybreak,  July  30,  the  mine  was  exploded.  We 
were  so  accustomed  to  extraordinary  explosions  that  no- 
thing short  of  an  earthquake  would  have  occasioned  sur- 
prise. At  our  quarters,  the  sound  was  not  extraordinary, 
although  we  were  only  about  two  miles  distant ;  and  I  have 
frequently  heard  General  Mahone,  whose  headquarters 
were  alon^  the  lmes  about  the  same  distance  from  the 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  CRATER       353 

mine  as  our  own,  say  the  same  thing.  It  was  fully  half 
past  six  o'clock  when  a  messenger  from  our  own  brigade 
arrived  announcing  the  explosion,  the  breach  in  the  line 
to  the  left  of  my  father's  brigade,  and  the  very  perilous 
situation  of  our  army. 

This  was  the  outcome  of  a  long  and  patient  series  of 
operations  on  the  part  of  the  Union  forces.  When  Peters- 
burg was  first  attacked,  our  army  had  been  driven  from 
certain  positions  on  an  outer  or  more  extended  line  of 
defenses.  About  one  hundred  yards  in  front  of  Elliott's 
salient,  the  second  division  of  Burnside's  corps  (Ninth) 
occupied  a  heavy  line  of  rifle-pits,  from  which  we  had 
retired.  Behind  these  rifle-pits,  which  originally  faced  to 
the  east,  the  ground  dipped,  so  that  operations  at  that 
point  were  fairly  well  concealed.  The  troops  located  there 
were  the  48th  Pennsylvania  Regiment,  recruited  in  the 
Schuylkill  mining  districts,  and  commanded  by  Lieuten- 
ant-Colonel Henry  Pleasants,  a  mining  engineer.  He  it 
was  who  conceived  the  idea  of  sinking  the  mine. 

While  he  secured  official  sanction  of  his  plan,  he 
seems  never  to  have  had  official  support.  General  Meade 
and  his  chief  of  engineers  spoke  of  it  contemptuously ; 
and  Pleasants,  in  his  testimony  before  the  Committee  on 
the  Conduct  of  the  War,  complained  bitterly  of  lack  of 
assistance.  Notwithstanding  all  obstacles,  the  mine  was 
complete  by  July  23.  It  consisted  of  a  shaft  510  feet 
long,  with  lateral  galleries  under  our  works  38  and  37 
feet  long  respectively  ;  in  these,  320  kegs  of  powder,  con- 
taining 25  pounds  each,  —  in  all  8000  pounds,  —  were 
placed,  and  preliminary  to  the  explosion,  81  heavy  guns 
and  mortars  and  over  80  light  guns  of  the  Union  army 
were  brought  to  bear  on  the  position  to  be  mined  and 
attacked. 

General  Grant  was  by  this  time  fully  aroused  to  the 


354  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

dignity  of  the  assault,  and,  in  order  to  divert  General 
Lee,  made  a  demonstration  in  force  on  the  north  side 
of  the  James.  General  Sheridan  with  the  cavalry  and 
General  Hancock  with  a  corps  of  infantry  were  sent 
across  the  James,  necessitating  the  withdrawal  by  Gen- 
eral Lee  from  in  front  of  Petersburg  of  all  his  forces, 
except  the  divisions  of  Bushrod  Johnson  and  Hoke,  and 
two  brigades  of  Mahone's  division.  General  Lee,  in  fact, 
had  left  to  defend  Petersburg,  on  the  morning  of  the 
mine  explosion,  but  13,000  men.  It  is  proper  I  should 
state  that,  in  the  many  accounts  from  which  I  compiled 
this  narrative,  none  is  so  terse,  and  none  so  fortified  by 
historic  data,  as  that  of  Captain  Gordon  McCabe,  of 
Petersburg ;  and,  while  I  have  not  that  paper  before  me, 
I  am  following  it  so  closely  that  I  should  be  liable  to  the 
accusation  of  plagiarism  if  I  did  not  make  this  acknow- 
ledgment. 

Grant  quietly  recalled  Hancock  the  night  of  July  29, 
and  had  him  in  supporting  distance  of  Burnside  when 
the  mine  was  fired.  The  plan  of  attack  was  for  Burn- 
side  to  assault ;  Ord  on  his  right  and  Warren  on  his  left 
were  to  close  in  and  sustain  him.  The  preparations  were 
elaborate.  The  assaulting  column  numbered  15,000  men, 
and  the  supports  brought  the  aggregate  Union  forces  em- 
ployed up  to  65,000  men.  Burnside's  negro  division  was 
at  first  considered  for  leading,  but  the  final  determina- 
tion was  to  let  the  white  troops  take  the  advance,  and  the 
choice  fell  by  lot  to  the  division  of  Major-General  Ledlie, 
who  has  been  so  severely  denounced  by  his  own  com- 
mander and  comrades  that  I  will  not  discuss  his  merits 
or  demerits.  The  columns  were  massed  for  the  attack 
overnight,  and  the  fuse  of  the  mine  was  lighted  about 
3.30  a.  m. 

The  ragged  remnant  of  the  Confederate  army  still  left 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  CRATER        355 

before  Petersburg  enjoyed  unusual  repose  that  night, 
for  the  firing  along  the  lines  had  almost  ceased.  A  long 
delay  ensued.  After  waiting  more  than  an  hour  for  the 
explosion,  two  Union  soldiers,  at  the  risk  of  their  lives, 
crawled  into  the  gallery  of  the  mine  and  found  that  the 
fuse  had  failed ;  they  relit  it  and  returned.  Colonel 
Pleasants  and  his  friends  stood  watching  with  intense 
solicitude  the  culmination  of  their  five  weeks'  labors ; 
fifteen  thousand  Union  troops  stood  in  hushed  expect- 
ancy behind  the  Union  parapets,  under  orders  that  the 
moment  after  the  explosion  they  should  leap  the  breast- 
works and  advance  across  ground  upon  which,  for  weeks, 
certain  death  had  awaited  any  man  who  trod  it,  and 
mount  into  those  lines  whence  their  oft-tried  foe  had 
so  long  hurled  defiance.  While  this  was  the  condition 
of  the  Union  troops,  the  Confederate  infantrymen  and 
cannoneers  at  the  doomed  salient  slept  on,  as  the  fuse 
sparkled  and  sputtered  inch  by  inch  towards  the  four 
tons  of  gunpowder  which  were  to  rend  with  the  violence 
of  an  earthquake  the  spot  on  which  they  were  resting. 

"  There  she  goes !  "  exclaimed  one  of  the  watchers. 
The  ground  trembled  for  an  instant ;  an  immense  mass 
of  earth,  cannon,  timbers,  human  beings,  and  smoke  shot 
skyward,  paused  for  an  instant  in  mid-air,  illumined  by 
the  flash  of  the  explosion  ;  and,  bursting  asunder,  fell 
back  into  and  around  the  smoking  pit.  The  dense  cloud 
of  smoke  drifted  off,  tinged  by  the  first  faint  rays  of  sun- 
rise; a  silence  like  that  of  death  succeeded  the  tremen- 
dous report.  Nearly  three  hundred  Confederates  were 
buried  in  the  debris  of  the  crater ;  then1  comrades  on 
either  side  adjacent  to  the  fatal  spot  fled  from  a  sight  so 
much  resembling  the  day  of  judgment.  To  the  south  of 
the  crater,  our  lines  were  unmanned  even  as  far  as  our 
brigade,  and  a  similar  condition  existed  on  its  northern 


356  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

side  ;  at  least  three  hundred  yards  of  our  lines  were  de- 
serted by  their  defenders,  and  left  at  the  mercy  of  the 
assaulting  columns.  Beyond  that  breach  not  a  Confed- 
erate infantryman  stood  to  dispute  their  passage  into  the 
heart  of  Petersburg.  A  prompt  advance  in  force,  a 
gallant  dash,  not  into  the  crater,  but  around  it  and 
three  hundred  yards  beyond  it,  would  have  crowned  the 
great  explosion  with  a  victory  worthy  of  its  grandeur. 
From  the  eminence  where  Blandford  church  and  cemetery 
stood,  in  rear  of  the  mine,  Grant's  forces  might,  within 
ten  minutes  after  the  mine  was  sprung,  have  looked 
backward  upon  the  Confederates,  stunned,  paralyzed, 
and  separated  ;  and,  looking  forward,  they  might  have 
seen  the  coveted  city  undefended  and  at  their  mercy. 

The  imbecility  which  marked  the  commencement  of 
the  assault,  the  folly  which  crowned  its  conduct,  cannot 
be  explained  save  by  the  incompetency  of  General  Burn- 
side.  What  occurred  led  to  a  bitter  controversy  be- 
tween himself  and  General  Meade ;  and  General  Grant 
is  upon  record  as  declaring  that  Genei-al  Ledlie,  who 
commanded  the  leading  division,  was  unfit  for  the  task 
assigned  to  him.  Certain  it  is  that  General  Meade, 
the  commander  of  the  army ;  ought  not  to  have  taken 
personal  charge  of  the  advance ;  and  equally  certain  it 
is  that  General  Burnside,  intrusted  with  the  conduct 
of  a  movement  of  such  moment,  ought  to  have  super- 
intended and  led  it  in  person.  A  soldier  like  Picton, 
or  Ney,  or  Stonewall  Jackson,  or  Phil  Sheridan,  would 
never  have  frittered  away  an  opportunity  so  glorious 
by  dii*ecting  subordinates  from  a  distant  position  of 
safety.  One  can  picture  to  himself  the  way  in  which 
any  one  of  a  hundred  great  military  lieutenants  would 
have  seen  and  availed  himself  of  this  rare  chance  for 
immortal   fame.     The  very  silence  of  the  Confederates 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  CRATER        357 

after  the  explosion  was  in  itself  the  loud-mouthed  voice 
of  opportunity,  calling  in  tones  which  military  genius 
would  not  have  failed  to  recognize.  One  can  almost  see 
the  quick  rush  of  the  assaulting  columns  through  the 
uncleared  smoke  of  the  crater,  as  they  would  have  come 
under  a  real  leader ;  and  can  almost  hear  their  cheering 
as  they  mounted  the  abandoned  trenches,  paying  no 
attention  to  the  pit  of  their  own  making,  but  pressing 
on  beyond  it  without  pause  until  in  full  possession  of  the 
position  in  our  rear.  The  commanding  generals  knew 
the  importance  of  such  a  course.  General  Burnside  had 
explicit  instructions  to  pursue  it.  If  he  had  once  shown 
himself  at  the  head  of  his  command,  whether  it  was 
organized  or  disorganized,  it  might,  could,  and  would 
have  followed  him  to  his  objective  point,  and  could  and 
would  have  carried  his  advantage  to  its  legitimate  results. 
Yet,  in  the  whole  history  of  war,  no  enterprise  so  auspi- 
ciously begun  ever  resulted  in  a  conclusion  more  lame 
and  impotent. 

The  Union  troops  designated  for  the  assault,  instead 
of  drawing  inspiration  from  the  sight  of  the  breach  they 
had  effected,  actually  appeared  to  recoil  from  the  havoc. 
For  some  time  no  demonstration  followed  the  explosion ; 
when  they  finally  advanced,  it  was  not  with  the  eager- 
ness of  grenadiers  or  guardsmen,  but  with  rushes  and 
pauses  of  uncertainty ;  and  when  they  reached  our  lines, 
instead  of  treating  the  opening  as  a  mere  passageway  to 
their  objective  point  beyond,  thejr  halted,  peeped,  and 
gaped  into  the  pit,  and  then,  with  the  stupidity  of  sheep, 
followed  their  bell-wethers  into  the  crater  itself,  where, 
huddled  together,  all  semblance  of  organization  vanished, 
and  company,  regimental,  and  brigade  commanders  lost 
all  power  to  recognize,  much  less  control,  their  respective 
troops.     Meade,  from  his  position  a  mile  away,  was  de- 


358  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

manding  of  Burnside  why  lie  did  not  advance  beyond  the 
crater  to  the  Blandford  cemetery.  Burnside,  safely  in  the 
Union  lines,  and  separated  from  his  assaulting  columns, 
was  replying  that  difficulties  existed,  —  difficulties  which 
he  could  not  specify,  for  the  double  reason  that  he  did  not 
know  what  they  were,  and  that  they  did  not  in  fact  exist. 

If  he,  the  well-known  corps  commander,  had  but  shown 
himself  and  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  his  troops, 
there  was  no  obstacle  in  the  way  of  that  advance  for 
fully  three  hours  after  his  troops  were  in  full  possession 
of  our  works.  True,  he  might  have  been  killed ;  the 
chance  was,  however,  remote  under  the  circumstances, 
but  that  was  a  legitimate  contingency  connected  with  the 
business  he  had  undertaken.  Whether  killed  or  not, 
his  presence  would  have  put  his  column  in  motion  and 
accomplished  the  object,  instead  of  leaving  his  command 
to  headless  and  huddled  disaster.  Many  a  soldier  would 
have  deemed  it  a  privilege  to  risk  his  life  in  averting 
the  slaughter  of  that  day,  and  in  converting  a  threatened 
rout  into  a  brilliant  victory. 

But,  if  Burnside  was  deficient  on  the  aggressive,  the 
Confederate  officer  in  command  of  the  division  defending 
the  position  was  a  Roland  for  his  Oliver. 

Bushrod  Johnson  held  the  rank  of  major-general. 
How  he  gained  it,  or  why  he  retained  it,  —  whether  by 
accident  or  favoritism,  —  is  unimportant ;  he  had  under 
him  as  gallant  troops  as  ever  fought.  Elliott's  South 
Carolinians,  Grade's  Alabamians,  our  own  beloved  bri- 
gade, were  ready  to  do  and  die  whenever  called  upon, 
and  to  follow  wherever  dauntless  leadership  directed ;  but 
to  their  division  commander  they  were  almost  strangers. 
He  selected  headquarters  at  a  house  in  rear  of  the  lines. 
It  was  tucked  under  the  hill  by  the  roadside,  just  north  of 
the  Blandford  cemetery,  and  there  he  had  remained,  vege- 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  CRATER        359 

tating,  without  any  friendly  intercourse  with  his  command, 
or  communicating  with  it  save  through  official  channels. 
Seldom,  if  ever,  was  the  man  seen  in  the  trenches ;  he 
was  barely  known  by  sight  to  his  men ;  toward  him  they 
felt  no  affection,  of  his  prowess  they  had  no  evidence, 
and  in  his  ability  they  felt  no  confidence.  So  slight  was 
the  dependence  of  his  brigadiers  upon  him,  so  little  their 
habit  of  communication,  so  indifferent  his  own  conduct, 
that  when  General  Lee,  some  hours  after  the  mine  had 
been  exploded,  reached  General  Johnson's  headquarters, 
Johnson  knew  no  details  of  the  disaster,  or  of  the  dis- 
positions made  to  repair  it,  although  it  was  his  own 
division  that  was  involved,  and  the  enemy  over  the  hill 
was  not  four  hundred  yards  distant.  If  the  enemy 
had  pressed  forward  at  any  time  within  two  hours  after 
the  explosion,  they  would  in  all  probability  have  found 
General  Bushrod  Johnson  in  bed.  When  General  Lee 
arrived  about  eight  o'clock,  he  found  him  actually  igno- 
rant of  the  peril. 

But  the  merciful  Gods  of  War,  if  they  permit  such 
people  as  Burnside  and  Johnson  to  masquerade  as  mili- 
tary men,  atone  for  it  by  furnishing  others  whose  bril- 
liant deeds  divert  us  from  pity  for  incompetents. 

General  Elliott  promptly  disposed  the  portion  of  his 
brigade  left  to  him  in  the  traverses  commanding  the 
crater  ;  Colonel  Goode,  commanding  our  brigade,  concen- 
trated on  his  left  flank,  and  with  the  fragment  of  Elliott's 
brigade,  which  was  driven  into  ours  by  the  explosion, 
opened  a  brisk  fire  upon  the  assailants.  From  our  ten- 
inch  and  eight-inch  mortars  in  the  rear  of  the  line,  a 
most  accurate  fire  was  opened  upon  the  troops  in  the 
breach  ;  and  our  batteries  to  north  and  south  began 
to  pour  a  deadly  Storm  of  shell  and  canister  upon  their 
crowded  masses.     The  situation  looked  desperate  for  us, 


360  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

nevertheless,  for  it  was  all  our  infantry  could  do  to  hold 
their  lines,  and  not  a  man  could  be  spared  to  meet  an 
advance  upon  Blandford  cemetery  heights,  which  lay 
before  the  Union  troops.  At  this  juncture,  heroic  John 
Haskell,  of  South  Carolina,  came  dashing  up  the  plank 
road  with  two  light  batteries,  and  from  a  position  near  the 
cemetery  began  the  most  effective  work  of  the  day. 

Exposed  to  the  batteries  and  sharpshooters  of  the 
enemy,  he  and  his  men  gave  little  heed  to  danger.  Has- 
kell, in  his  impetuous  and  ubiquitous  gallantry,  dashed 
and  flashed  about :  first  here,  next  there,  like  Ariel  on 
the  sinking  ship.  Now  he  darted  into  the  covered  way 
to  seek  Elliott,  and  implore  an  infantry  support  for  his 
exposed  guns ;  Elliott,  responding  to  his  appeal,  was 
severely  wounded  as  he  attempted  with  a  brave  handful  of 
his  Carolinians  to  cover  Haskell's  position  ;  now  Haskell 
cheered  Lampkin,  who  had  already  opened  with  his  eight- 
inch  mortars  ;  now  he  hurried  back  to  Flanner,  where  he 
had  left  him,  and  found  him  under  a  fire  so  hot  that  in 
mercy  he  resolved  to  retire  all  his  guns  but  six,  and  call 
for  volunteers  to  man  them,  but  that  was  not  the  temper 
of  Lee's  army :  every  gun  detachment  volunteered  to 
remain.  Hurrying  to  the  right  again,  he  found  but  one 
group  of  cowards  in  his  whole  command,  and  these  he 
replaced  by  Hampton  Gibbs,  and  Captain  Sam  Pres- 
ton of  our  brigade,  whose  conspicuous  bravery  more  than 
atoned  for  the  first  defection ;  both  fell  desperately 
wounded,  and  were  replaced  by  peerless  Hampden  Cham- 
berlayne,  who  left  the  hospital  to  hurry  to  the  fight,  and 
won  promotion  by  the  brilliancy  of  his  behavior ;  again, 
like  Ariel,  Haskell,  almost  superhuman  in  the  energy 
of  his  defense,  "  flamed  amazement "  upon  the  foe,  and 
staggered  him  with  "  the  fire  and  crack  of  sulphurous 
roaring"   until    help  came.     To  whomsoever  else    honor 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  CRATER        361 

may  be  clue  for  that  day's  work,  the  name  of  Haskell 
should  never  be  dissociated  from  it,  for  he  was  a  born 
and  a  resourceful  artilleryman,  and  knew  no  such  thing 
as  fear. 

Where  were  the  Confederate  commanders  during  all 
this  time  ?  Bushrod  Johnson  was  near  by,  but  nobody 
considered  him ;  Generals  Lee  and  Beauregard  had  their 
headquarters  on  the  north  side  of  the  Appomattox.  It 
was  fully  six  o'clock  before  General  Lee  heard  the  news, 
from  Colonel  Paul,  of  Beauregard's  staff  !  Colonel  Paul 
lived  in  Petersburg,  and,  being  at  home  that  night  and 
learning  of  the  disaster,  galloped  out  and  informed  Gen- 
eral Lee  as  he  was  sitting  down  to  his  breakfast.  Before 
Lee  even  knew  of  the  occurrence,  General  Meade  had  had 
time  to  converse  with  prisoners  captured  at  the  crater, 
and  to  advise  Burnside  that  Blandford  cemetery  was 
unprotected ;  that  none  of  our  troops  had  returned  from 
the  James  ;  that  his  chance  was  now  ;  and  to  implore  him 
to  move  forward  at  all  hazards,  lose  no  time  in  making 
formations,  and  rush  for  the  crest. 

General  Lee  immediately  sent  Colonel  Venable,  of  his 
staff,  direct  to  Mahone,  with  instructions  to  come  with 
two  brigades  of  his  division  to  Blandford  cemetery  to 
support  the  artillery.  The  urgency  was  so  great  that  he 
did  not  transmit  the  order  through  General  Hill,  the 
corps  commander.  Mounting  his  horse,  General  Lee 
proceeded  to  Bushrod  Johnson's  headquarters,  which  he 
reached  about  seven  a.  m.,  but  the  information  obtained 
from  him  was  valueless :  he  knew  nothing  of  the  extent 
of  the  disaster,  and  had  not  even  been  to  the  front,  —  he 
probably  learned  more  from  General  Lee  than  he  knew 
himself.  Then  General  Lee  was  joined  by  General  Hill, 
and  they  passed  into  the  lines  at  a  traverse  near  the 
Rives  salient,  where  Colonel  Venable  found  them  sitting. 


362  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

Meanwhile,  Venable  had  communicated  with  Mahone, 
and  Mahone,  always  cunning,  had  retired  his  two  brigades 
from  the  lines  so  quietly  that  General  Warren,  opposite  to 
him,  reported  that  no  troops  had  been  withdrawn  from  his 
front.  The  Virginia  and  Georgia  brigades  of  Mahone's 
division  were  the  troops  selected.  The  message  to  Ma- 
hone was  to  send  them,  but  he  insisted  that  he  should  go 
with  them.  They  passed  rapidly  by  way  of  a  ravine  from 
Mahone's  position  on  the  lines  covering  the  Jerusalem 
plank  road  to  a  point  in  rear  of  the  crater.  The  Vir- 
ginia brigade,  commanded  by  Weisiger,  led.  It  was  now 
eight  o'clock.  One  cannot  but  think  of  what  might  have 
happened  during  all  this  time,  if  Burnside  had  acted  upon 
Meade's  urgent  appeals. 

The  appearance  of  this  infantry  was  balm  and  solace 
to  the  artillery  blazing  away  upon  the  crest  just  above 
them.  For  hours  they  had  been  fighting  there,  almost 
decimated  by  the  artillery  concentrated  upon  them,  and 
the  distant  firing  of  sharpshooters.  They  could  not  have 
withstood  even  a  feeble  assault  of  infantry,  and  had  ex- 
pected it  during  every  minute  they  had  been  engaged  :  the 
coming  of  Mahone  was  their  deliverance.  With  but  an 
instant's  pause  in  the  ravine  to  strip  for  battle,  Mahone's 
division,  headed  by  their  gallant  little  general,  clambered 
up  the  slope,  crossed  the  Jerusalem  road,  and  passed  in 
single  file  at  double-quick  into  a  covered  way.  There 
was  no  cheering,  and  no  gaudy  flaunting  of  uniforms  or 
standards  ;  with  them,  war's  work  had  become  too  grim 
and  too  real  for  all  that.  In  weather-worn  and  ragged 
clothes,  with  hats  whose  brims  could  shade  their  eyes  for 
deadly  aim,  with  bodies  hardened  down  by  march  and 
exposure  to  race-horse  lines,  they  came,  not  with  the 
look  or  feelings  of  mercenaries,  but  like  anxious,  earnest 
men  whose  souls  were  in  their  work,  who  knew  what  the 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  CRATER        363 

crisis  was,  and  who  were  anxious  to  perform  the  task 
which  that  crisis  demanded.  Agile  as  cats,  they  sprang 
across  the  road  and  entered  the  covered  way ;  as  they 
skipped  by,  many  a  fellow  kissed  his  hand  to  the  artil- 
lerymen to  right  and  left,  or  strained  on  tiptoe  to  catch 
sight  of  the  ground  in  front,  before  entering  the  sheltered 
passage.  For  the  first  time  during  the  day,  a  line  of 
infantry  was  between  our  guns  and  the  enemy ;  and  the 
boys  at  the  guns,  knowing  what  reliance  could  be  placed 
upon  Mahone's  veterans,  took  new  heart  and  new  cour- 
age, and  pounded  away  with  redoubled  energy. 

Venable  parted  with  Mahone  at  the  mouth  of  the  cov- 
ered way,  and,  seeking  General  Lee,  informed  him  that 
Mahone  was  up,  and  proposed  to  lead  his  two  brigades 
in  person.  The  general  expressed  his  gratification,  and 
gave  a  sigh  of  relief.  Soon  leaving  the  Rives  salient, 
General  Lee  rode  to  the  point  in  the  covered  way  at 
which  Mahone  had  entered,  and,  dismounting,  proceeded 
on  foot  to  a  house  at  Lampkin's  mortar  battery,  about 
two  hundred  and  fifty  yards  from  the  crater.  The  house 
was  riddled  by  shot  and  shell ;  from  a  window  in  its  base- 
ment Generals  Lee  and  Beauregard  observed  the  fight. 
The  ground  from  the  crater  sloped  to  the  north  and  west 
into  a  little  ravine,  into  which  the  covered  way,  by  which 
Mahone  had  entered,  debouched  ;  in  this  hollow  Mahone 
formed  his  troops  for  battle,  the  Virginia  brigade  on  the 
left. 

Springing  quickly  from  the  covered  way,  the  eight  hun- 
dred Virginians  lay  flat  upon  the  ground.  The  Geor- 
gians were  forming  on  their  right.  Before  the  Georgians 
could  come  into  position,  the  enemy,  occupying  our  gorge 
line,  succeeded  in  forming  an  attacking  column,  and 
advanced  to  the  assault.  Weisiger,  commanding  the  Vir- 
ginians, was  a  grim,  determined  man.     Our  boys  were 


364  THE   END   OF  AN  ERA 

lying  down  within  one  hundred  and  sixty  yards  of  the 
works,  and  saw  within  them  a  vast  throng  of  Union  troops, 
and  counted  eleven  Union  flags.  A  gallant  Union  officer, 
seizing  a  stand  of  Union  colors,  leaped  upon  their  breast- 
works and  called  upon  his  men  to  charge.  Fully  realizing 
the  paucity  of  his  own  numbers,  and  the  danger  of  being 
overwhelmed  by  the  mass  of  the  enemy  if  they  poured 
down  upon  him,  Weisiger  determined  to  anticipate  the 
threatened  movement  by  charging.  Cautioning  his  men 
to  reserve  their  fire,  he  ordered  them  forward.  Those 
who  saw  this  assault  pronounce  it  to  have  been,  in  many 
respects,  the  most  remarkable  which  they  ever  witnessed. 
At  the  command  "  Forward !  "  the  men  sprang  to  their 
feet ;  advanced  at  a  run  in  perfect  alignment ;  absolutely 
refrained  from  firing  until  within  a  few  feet  of  the 
enemy ;  then,  with  their  guns  almost  upon  the  bodies  of 
their  foes,  delivered  a  deadly  fire,  and,  rushing  upon 
them  with  bayonets  and  clubbed  muskets,  drove  them 
pell-mell  back  into  the  intrenchments  which  they  had 
just  left. 

General  Lee,  when  advised  of  this  brilliant  assault, 
remarked,  "  That  must  have  been  Mahone's  old  bri- 
gade." When  news  came  confirming  it,  he  again  said, 
"  I  thought  so." 

My  heart  beat  high  when  all  the  army  rang  with 
the  praises  of  "  Mahone's  old  brigade."  Part  of  them 
were  "  our  boys  "  from  Norfolk,  —  many  of  them  little 
older  than  myself;  companions,  playmates,  friends.  At 
the  outbreak  of  the  war,  they  called  them  "  tender-feet " 
and  "  dandies."  Their  uniforms  were  very  smart,  and 
their  feet  were  very  tender.  From  one  of  their  earlier 
marches  they  came  back  limping,  with  their  feet  bleeding 
and  their  shoes  upon  their  bayonets ;  the  boys  named 
them  in  derision  the  "  Bloody  Sixth."     But  their  hearts 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  CRATER       365 

were  true,  and  soon  their  feet  grew  tough  enough.  They 
were  the  sons  of  the  best  of  the  old  Tidewater  Virginians 
of  English  descent,  and,  by  the  time  second  Manassas 
and  Crampton's  Gap  were  fought,  the  "  Bloody  Sixth," 
of  "  Mahone's  old  brigade,"  had  earned  its  title  by  blood 
from  the  heart  as  well  as  from  the  feet.  To-day  it 
crowned  its  record,  for  old  F  Company  of  Norfolk,  now 
known  as  K  Company,  Sixth  Virginia  Regiment,  a  com- 
pany modeled  in  happier  days  after  the  aristocratic  com- 
pany of  the  New  York  Seventh,  took  sixteen  men  into 
action  and  lost  every  man  but  one,  —  eight  killed  outright 
and  seven  wounded. 

In  the  position  gained  by  Mahone's  old  brigade,  nothing 
intervened  between  them  and  the  enemy  but  the  pile 
of  breastworks,  —  they  on  the  outside,  the  enemy  within 
the  crater  and  gorge  line.  The  fighting  by  which  they 
established  themselves  was  desperate  and  hand-to-hand. 

Superb  Haskell  once  more  came  to  their  rescue :  he 
moved  up  his  little  Eprouvette  mortars  almost  to  our 
lines,  and,  cutting  down  his  charge  of  powder  to  an 
ounce  and  a  half,  so  that  his  shell  scarcely  mounted  fifty 
feet,  threw  a  continuous  hail  of  small  shell  into  the  pit, 
over  the  heads  of  our  men.  Our  fellows  seized  the 
muskets  abandoned  by  the  retreating  enemy,  and  threw 
them  like  pitchforks  into  the  huddled  troops  over  the 
ramparts.  Screams,  groans,  and  explosions  throwing  up 
human  limbs  made  it  a  scene  of  awful  carnage.  Yet  the 
artillery  of  the  enemy  searched  every  spot,  and  they  still 
had  a  formidable  force  of  fighting  men. 

The  Georgia  brigade,  charging  a  little  after  Weisi- 
ger's,  was  decimated  and  repulsed.  Our  own  brigade, 
which  was  engaged  from  first  to  last  and  never  yielded  a 
foot  of  ground,  lost  heavily,  and  Mahone's  brigade,  the 
"  immortals  "  of  that  day,  was  almost  annihilated.    About 


366  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

one  o'clock,  the  Alabama  brigade  of  Mahone's  division, 
under  Saunders,  arrived  upon  the  scene,  formed  and 
charged,  and  the  white  flag  went  up  from  the  crater. 
Out  of  it  into  our  lines  filed  as  prisoners  eleven  hundred 
and  one  Union  troops,  including  two  brigade  command- 
ers, and  we  captured  twenty-one  standards  and  several 
thousand  of  small  arms.  Over  a  thousand  of  the  en- 
emy's dead  were  in  and  about  the  breach,  and  his  losses 
exceeded  five  thousand  effective  troops,  while  our  lines 
were  reestablished  just  where  they  were  when  the  battle 
began. 

The  crater  fight  was  not  only  one  of  the  bloodiest,  but 
one  of  the  most  brutal  of  the  war.  It  was  the  first  time 
Lee's  army  had  encountered  negroes,  and  their  presence 
excited  in  the  troops  indignant  malice  such  as  had  char- 
acterized no  former  conflict.  To  the  credit  of  the  blacks 
be  it  said  that  they  advanced  in  better  order  and  pushed 
forward  farther  than  the  whites,  on  that  day  so  unfortu- 
nate for  the  Union  cause ;  but  when  our  men,  in  frenzy, 
rushed  upon  and  drove  the  cold  steel  into  them,  they  did 
not  show  the  stubborn  power  of  endurance  for  which  the 
Anglo-Saxon  is  preeminent,  nor  do  I  believe  they  ever 
will  on  any  field.  On  the  other  hand,  our  men,  inflamed 
to  relentless  vengeance  by  their  presence,  disregarded  the 
rules  of  warfare  which  restrained  them  in  battle  with 
their  own  race,  and  brained  and  butchered  the  blacks 
until  the  slaughter  was  sickening. 

At  the  first  report  of  the  battle,  my  father  promptly 
repaired  to  the  lines.  His  interest  in  and  affection  for 
his  brigade  was  like  that  of  a  father  for  his  children ; 
although  not  in  actual  command,  the  duties  of  his  tem- 
porary position  were  such  that  he  might  with  propriety 
go  forth  and  reassure  his  own  troops  by  his  presence. 
Moving  out  rapidly  to  the  opening  of  the  covered  way 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  CRATER        367 

leading  to  our  brigade,  we  left  our  horses  and  hurried  for- 
ward to  the  lines.  We  came  upon  the  outer  works  about 
midway  of  the  brigade,  and  found  the  troops  manning 
them  at  intervals  of  fully  ten  feet  apart,  for  the  brigade 
was  massed  upon  the  left  in  the  traverses  and  covered 
ways,  firing  steadily  and  rapidly  upon  the  crater.  A  tre- 
mendous artillery  fire  from  both  sides  raked  the  vicinity 
of  the  crater,  and  the  danger  to  our  troops  from  several 
of  our  light  batteries  to  the  north  was  almost  as  great 
as  that  from  the  Union  guns.  Every  shot  which  missed 
the  crater  came  bounding  down  our  lines.  Exchanging  a 
few  words  with  the  fearless  Goode,  who  had  his  troops 
well  in  hand,  my  father  at  once  proceeded  to  report  the 
condition  of  affairs  to  General  Lee,  whom  we  had  seen  as 
we  entered  the  works,  and  to  order  up  reinforcements 
from  the  teamsters  and  cooks  at  our  wagon  camp. 

One  of  the  first  wounded  men  we  saw  was  my  cousin, 
"  Old  Suggs,"  whose  eternal  talk  about  the  "  Adventures 
of  Simon  Suggs  "  had  named  the  family  at  the  Virginia 
Military  Institute.  Now  he  was  sergeant-major  of  our 
left  regiment,  and  a  glancing  ball  had  struck  him  on 
an  eye  tooth  and  knocked  it  out.  I  presume  he  had  his 
mouth  open,  possibly  talking  about  Simon  Suggs.  His 
wound  proved  insignificant,  but  when  we  met  him,  he  was 
as  bloody  as  a  butcher's  cleaver. 

Hurrying  back  through  the  covered  way,  we  overtook 
two  stretcher-bearers  with  what  seemed  to  be  the  dead 
body  of  an  officer. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  exclaimed  my  father. 

"  Captain  Preston,  of  the  34th,"  was  the  reply. 

Removing  the  handkerchief  across  his  face,  we  saw  that 
a  minie  ball  had  pierced  him  over  the  eye.  "  Poor  fel- 
low," almost  sobbed  my  father,  as  he  bent  over  him, 
"  gallant  and  true  to  the  last."     For  in  the  lines  we  had 


368  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

heard  how  a  craven  in  one  of  our  salients  near  the  Baxtei 
road  had  deserted  his  guns,  and  Preston  had  called  foi 
volunteers,  manned  them,  and  worked  them  until  he  was 
thus  shot  down.  He  was  a  handsome  fellow  as  he  lay 
there,  apparently  dead :  thank  Heaven  he  was  not  dead, 
but  lived  to  hear  the  army  resounding  with  praise  of  his 
courage.  The  minie  which  pierced  him  was  in  sight,  anci 
the  surgeons  extracted  it.  He  recovered,  and  for  years 
after  peace  returned  was  clerk  of  a  court  in  Lynchburg, 
where  one  might  see  him  writing  and  the  deep  scar  over 
his  eye,  his  handsomest  dimple,  throbbing  with  his 
thoughts  as  he  wrote  them  down. 

While  we  were  back  in  the  town,  hurrying  every  avail- 
able teamster  and  clerk  and  cook  and  man  of  any  kind 
to  the  front,  the  famous*  charge  of  Mahone  took  place,  and 
others  were  reaping  the  glory  of  that  day.  By  the  time 
our  work  was  done,  the  Alabamians  arrived,  the  surren- 
der occurred,  the  firing  slacked,  and  the  prisoners  came 
running  into  our  lines  from  the  ravine.  It  was  a  motley 
gathering,  composed  of  troops,  white  and  black,  from 
every  command  and  every  branch  of  service  in  Burnside's 
corps.  There  they  were,  from  the  refined  and  distin- 
guished-looking General  Bartlett,  who  bore  his  misfortune 
like  the  Christian  gentleman  he  was,  down  to  the  wildest- 
looking  darkey,  who  expected  every  moment  that  he 
would  be  massacred. 

The  prisoners  were  corralled  at  Poplar  Lawn,  in  Peters- 
burg. It  was  soon  discovered  that  nearly  all  the  negroes 
were  from  eastern  Virginia,  many  of  them  owned  by  the 
men  they  were  fighting,,  A  notice  was  posted  permitting 
owners  to  reclaim  their  property,  and  the  negroes  were 
delighted  at  the  prospect  of  being  treated  as  slaves,  in- 
stead of  being  put  to  death  or  sent  to  a  Confederate  mili- 
tary prison.    Some  of   the  reclamations  made  were  dra- 


THE  BATTLE  OE  THE  CRATER       369 

matic,  some  pathetic,  and  some  highly  amusing.  This  last 
expression  seems  out  of  place  in  connection  with  this 
awful  tragedy,  but  it  is  true,  nevertheless.  The  negroes 
had  witnessed  such  fierce  butchery  of  their  companions  up 
to  the  time  they  had  raised  the  white  flag,  that  they  were 
frantic  with  fear,  and  saw  no  hope  of  escajje.  As  they 
came  running  into  our  lines  through  the  dangers  of  the 
firing  from  their  own  friends,  they  landed  among  our 
men,  falling  on  their  knees,  their  eyes  rolling  in  terror, 
exclaiming,  "  Fur  God  sake,  Marster,  doan'  kill  me.  Spar' 
me,  Marster,  and  I  '11  wuk  fur  you  as  long  as  I  lib." 
I  Marster "  never  fell  from  their  poor  lips  so  glibly  or 
so  often  in  all  their  lives ;  and  even  after  they  had  been 
with  us  long  enough  to  know  it  was  not  our  purpose  to 
put  them  to  death,  when  one  of  them  discovered  his 
real  "  Marster,"  he  greeted  him  as  if  he  beheld  an  angel 
of  deliverance.  According  to  the  story  of  every  mother's 
son  of  them,  he  was  not  a  volunteer,  but  had  been  forced 
into  the  Union  service  against  his  will.  Of  course  we 
knew  just  how  much  of  these  tales  to  believe ;  but  it  is 
safe  to  say  that  every  master  who  reclaimed  a  slave  from 
the  Federal  prisoners  captured  at  the  crater  felt  reason- 
ably certain  his  man  would  never  again  volunteer  upon 
either  side  in  any  war. 

It  seems  fitting  to  close  this  ghastly  narrative  with  one 
ludicrous  incident,  which  shows  that  no  situation  is  so 
bloody  or  so  tragic  that  it  has  not  some  episode  to  relieve 
its  horrors.  In  our  brigade  was  a  young  fellow  who, 
while  fighting  gallantly  at  the  traverse  near  the  crater,  re- 
ceived a  bullet  in  the  forearm.  His  wound  was  dressed, 
and  he  was  given  a  ten  days'  furlough.  He  was  from 
eastern  Virginia,  and  his  home  was  in  the  Union  lines. 
He  had  no  friends,  no  money,  and  nowhere  to  go.  In 
this  condition,  he  was  wandering  about  the   streets   of 


370  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

Petersburg  the  day  after  the  crater  fight,  when  his  eye 
fell  upon  the  notice  to  owners  that  they  might  reclaim 
their  slaves  from  the  prisoners.  Thinking  that  possibly 
he  might  find  one  of  his  father's  slaves  among  them,  he 
wandered  down  to  Poplar  Lawn.  In  vain  he  sought  for 
a  familiar  face,  and  was  turning  away,  when  an  attractive, 
smiling  young  darkey  caught  his  eye  and  said,  "  Boss,  f ui 
God  sake,  claim  me  fur  yo'  nigger." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  you  rascal  ?  I  never  saw  you 
before,"  was  the  reply. 

"  I  knows  it,  sak,"  said  the  darkey ;  "  but  ef  I  says  I 
belongs  to  you,  who  gwine  to  dispute  it,  if  you  don't  ?  " 

"  If  I  had  you,  I  'd  sell  you  to-morrow,"  was  the  quick 
reply  of  the  young  fellow,  whose  eye  brightened  with  a 
happy  thought. 

"  I  doan'  keer  ef  you  does  sell  me,  sak,"  said  the  darkey. 
"  Dat  's  a  heap  better  dan  goin'  to  a  Confederick  prison 
pen." 

"  Done  !  "  said  the  soldier  ;  "  when  I  come  back  here, 
you  speak  to  me  and  call  me  '  Mars'  Ben,'  and  I  '11  attend 
to  the  rest." 

So  out  he  went,  and  soon  came  back  ;  and,  as  he  went 
searching  for  his  slaves,  accompanied  by  an  officer  in 
charge,  the  darkey  greeted  him  with  "  How  you  do,  Mars' 
Ben  ?  "  Then  Ben  swore  at  him,  and  denounced  him  for 
his  ingratitude  and  desire  to  kill  his  master  and  benefac- 
tor, and  they  carried  it  off  so  well  that  no  one  suspected 
the  ruse,  and  the  darkey  was  delivered  to  "  Mars'  Ben  " 
as  his  owner,  and  "  Mars'  Ben  "  took  him  to  Richmond 
and  sold  him  for  85000  in  Confederate  money.  "  Mars' 
Ben  "  had  a  great  furlough  with  that  $5000.  At  the  end 
of  ten  days,  he  returned  to  duty  with  a  new  suit  of  clothes 
and  fed  like  a  fighting-cock,  but  without  a  dollar  in  his 
pocket.     The  darkey  went  to  some  plantation  and  never 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  CRATER        371 

saw  a  prison  pen,  and  a  year  afterwards  was  a  free  citizen 
}f  the  United  States,  and  probably  wound  up  his  career  in 
some  scalawag  legislature,  or  even  as  a  member  of  Con- 
gress, —  who  knows  ?  Such  things  were  possible  in  those 
lays. 

A  short  while  ago,  I  met  Ben.  He  is  gray-headed  now. 
[  asked  him  where  he  was  going.  He  said  to  a  protracted 
neeting.  He  told  me  he  had  become  religious,  and  said 
ie  wished  I  would  reform. 

"Is  it  an  experience  meeting,  Ben ? "  said  I. 

"  Yes,"  said  he. 

"  Have  you  ever  told  them  about  that  darkey  you  sold 
ifter  the  crater  fight  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Now,  look  here,  old  fellow,"  said  he,  growing  confi- 
lential,  and  with  a  genuine  touch  of  pitiful  pleading  in 
bis  voice,  "  I  wish  you  would  not  give  me  away  about  that 
:hing.  I  have  prayed  for  forgiveness  for  that  many  a 
aight.  But  I  don't  believe  the  Lord  wants  me  to  expose 
myself  before  my  neighbors,  and  I  hope  you  will  not."  I 
igreed  to  spare  him,  and  so  I  will ;  but,  if  necessity 
mould  demand  it,  I  can  put  my  hand  upon  him  now, 
within  eight  hours'  ride  from  the  spot  on  which  I  write. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE   CONFEDERATE    RESERVES 

In  September,  1864,  the  commission  as  drill-master, 
with  rank  and  pay  of  second  lieutenant,  arrived,  accompa- 
nied by  orders  to  report  for  duty  October  1  to  Colonel 
Robert  Preston,  commanding  a  newly  organized  regiment 
of  reserve  forces  at  Dublin  Depot,  in  southwestern  Vir- 
ginia. The  red  seal  and  signature  of  the  Secretary  of 
War,  and  the  idea  of  being  addressed  as  lieutenant,  made 
their  distinct  impressions,  but  did  not  overcome  the 
desire  to  remain  with  the  army  at  the  front. 

Vain,  however,  were  all  pleadings  ;  and  even  Mahone, 
when  appealed  to  to  intercede  for  my  services,  seemed 
indifferent,  and  dwelt  upon  the  honor  to  be  gained  by 
faithful  work  in  preparing  raw  troops  for  actual  service, 
and  the  duty  of  deferring  to  the  judgment  and  wishes  of  a 
parent.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  he  and  "  the  old  general " 
had  been  talking  together  since  that  first  meeting. 

When,  September  30,  I  boarded  a  west-bound  train  at 
Petersburg  to  join  my  command,  the  new,  bright  bar 
upon  my  collar  and  gilt  scrolls  upon  my  sleeves  gave 
little  satisfaction.  I  felt  as  if  I  had  been  treated  like  a 
baby,  tucked  away  in  a  place  of  safety,  and  was  consent- 
ing to  turn  my  back  upon  the  enemy  just  when  every  man 
was  most  needed  in  Lee's  army.  And  was  I  not  a  man  ? 
Of  course  I  was.  I  was  nearly  eighteen  !  When  my 
father  parted  with  me,  after  much  good  advice  and  an 
affectionate   farewell,  I  know  it  was  with   the  solacing 


THE   CONFEDERATE   RESERVES  373 

reflection  that  I,  at  least,  was  out  of  harm's  way.  If  such 
were  his  feelings  and  his  purpose,  great  must  have  been 
his  astonishment  on  opening  his  first  letter  from  me. 

When  the  train  reached  Dublin  Depot  next  morning,  I 
inquired  of  a  soldier  standing  on  the  platform  for  Colonel 
Preston's  headquarters.  "  He  was  camped  on  yonder 
hill,"  said  the  person  addressed  ;  "  but  him  and  his  regi- 
ment left  here  last  night  for  Saltville.  The  Yankees  is 
comin'  over  the  mountain  from  Kentucky  to  the  salt- 
works." 

Trains  did  not  move,  in  those  times,  upon  precise  sched- 
ules. Ours  had  not  yet  pulled  out  of  the  depot.  It  was 
in  a  leisurely  way  taking  on  wood  and  water,  and  receiv- 
ing or  discharging  army  stores.  Without  another  word, 
I  resumed  my  place  in  the  car,  resolved  to  follow  and 
join  the  regiment.  On  and  on  we  went,  until  we  came 
to  Glade  Spring  Junction,  near  Abingdon  and  the  Ten- 
nessee line.  There,  to  my  great  delight,  I  found  Colonel 
Preston,  with  his  regiment  of  nondescripts,  waiting  for 
an  improvised  train  of  flat  cars,  which  was  to  bear  them 
to  Saltville,  eight  or  ten  miles  distant.  Swinging  off  the 
car  almost  before  it  stopped,  I  hurried  up  to  the  colonel. 
I  told  him  who  I  was.  He  gave  me  a  merry  and  charac- 
teristic greeting. 

From  the  number  of  Prestons  so  far  mentioned,  one 
might  think  this  a  history  of  the  Preston  family.  It  is, 
in  truth,  a  large  family,  but,  so  far  as  I  know,  none  of 
those  inferred  to  were  kin  to,  or  even  connected  with,  each 
other.  This  dear  old  man,  known  to  everybody  in  the 
army  and  in  his  section  of  the  State  as  "  Colonel  Bob," 
was  one  of  the  most  lovable  and  unique  characters  it  was 
ever  my  good  fortune  to  be  thrown  with.  He  was  short, 
thick-set,  and  had  an  immense  snow-wbite  beard,  extend- 
ing nearly  to  his  sword-belt.     He  often  buttoned  it  into 


374  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

and  beneath  his  coat  or  waistcoat.  When,  as  on  this 
occasion,  it  was  unconfined,  his  appearance,  figure,  beard, 
merry  twinkling  eye,  and  ruddy  face  instantly  suggested 
Santa  Claus. 

At  the  outbreak  of  the  war,  he  commanded  a  regiment 
in  the  Manassas  campaign;  brave  as  a  lion,  he  was  utterly 
ignorant  of  military  tactics ;  and  it  was  told  of  him  that 
on  one  occasion,  when  his  regiment  was  attacked  in  flank 
while  marching  in  column  of  companies,  he,  after  vainly 
endeavoring  to  think  of  the  command  by  which  to  wheel 
by  companies  into  line  and  charge  the  enemy,  burst  into 
an  explosion  of  oaths  and  said,  "  Twenty-eighth !  swing 
around  in  companies,  like  gates,  and  sick  'em  !  "  On  an- 
other occasion,  reaching  a  fence  and  not  knowing  how 
to  defile  his  troops  through  an  opening,  he  gave  the  fol- 
lowing startling  order,  "  Battalion  !  Oh,  battalion  !  bust 
up  !  climb  fence,  and  line  up  again  on  t'  other  side  ! " 
These  were  but  samples  of  the  many  tales  concerning 
him  as  a  tactician ;  notwithstanding  these  slight  defects, 
Colonel  Bob  was  honored,  respected,  and  counted  one  of 
the  gamest  fighters  in  the  army  ;  and  nothing  but  the 
infirmities  of  age  had  reconciled  his  beloved  "  28th "  to 
parting  with  him. 

When  the  growing  necessities  of  the  war  forced  upon 
the  authorities  at  Richmond  the  formation  of  these  re- 
serve regiments,  composed  of  old  men  and  little  boys, 
Colonel  Bob  was  among  the  first  appealed  to  for  aid  in 
the  undertaking,  for  no  man  was  more  beloved  or  exer- 
cised a  stronger  influence  in  his  section. 

The  day  I  joined  him,  he  had  a  veritable  Falstaffian 
army :  his  regiment  of  eight  companies  presented  every 
stage  of  manhood,  from  immature  boyhood  to  decrepit  old 
age.  One  of  his  companies  drawn  up  in  line  looked  as 
irregular  as  a  pile  of  barrel-hoops.     There  was  no  pre- 


THE   CONFEDERATE   RESERVES  375 

tense  of  uniform  ;  they  wore  everything,  from  straw  hats 
to  coon-skin  caps.  A  vision  of  Colonel  Bob's  regiment 
must  have  presented  itself  to  the  mind  of  General  Grant 
when  he  informed  the  country  that  the  Confederacy  was, 
like  Micawber,  "  robbing  the  cradle  and  the  grave." 

One  thing  uniform  they  had,  —  every  man  had  a  Bel- 
gian rifle,  and  a  cartridge-box  rilled  with  pretty  fair  am- 
munition. To  my  surprise,  they  handled  these  weapons 
effectively  and  most  courageously  the  following  day. 

Nobody  realized  the  ludicrous  appearance  of  his  sol- 
diers, or  enjoyed  it  more  thoroughly,  than  did  Colonel 
Bob.  He  would  have  had  a  laugh  at  his  own  funeral, 
if  opportunity  had  occurred.  "  Look  at  that !  "  said  he, 
stroking  his  beard  and  chuckling  a  comfortable,  inside- 
shaking  laugh ;  "  look  at  that !  Your  cadets  could  n't 
beat  it."  He  was  pointing  to  his  command,  scrambling 
pell-mell,  helter-skelter,  upon  the  dirty  flats  which  now 
had  been  backed  up.  Two  strapping  young  fellows  were 
tugging  at  an  old  one,  who  looked  as  if  he  would  come 
to  pieces,  pulling  him  up  on  the  car,  while  a  third  was 
pushing  him  from  behind. 

"Henry!"  shouted  Colonel  Bob,  "you  must  ride  Robin 
and  lead  Bob  down  to  the  salt-works.  Take  your  time, 
Henry ;  you  '11  get  there  as  soon  as  we  do,  I  think.  I 
must  stay  with  my  ragamuffins,  Henry ;  do  you  under- 
stand?" 

Henry  was  his  smiling,  handsome,  and  deferential  mu- 
latto body-servant,  who  looked  after  his  comfort  as  if  the 
colonel  were  a  baby.  Bob  was  his  strong,  blood-bay, 
half-bred  charger.  The  way  he  uttered  the  word  Henry, 
and  the  tone  in  which  he  spoke  of  Bob,  showed  how  he 
loved  them,  and  how  dependent  he  was  upon  them.  Both 
Henry  and  Bob  were  very  proud  of  their  master.  Henry 
bowed  and  smiled,  assured  him  all  would  be  as  he  wished, 


376  THE   END   OF  AN  ERA 

and,  before  departing,  whispered  to  him  that  he  had  placed 
some  food  for  him  in  the  locker  of  the  caboose  car  which 
we  were  to  occupy. 

"  Did  you  put  my  bottle  of  brandy  there,  Henry  ? " 
said  the  colonel. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Henry,  grinning  and  looking  around 
suspiciously. 

"  Well,  don't    do    it,"  said   the    old  man,  raising   his 

voice  ;    "these   soldiers   are  honest  enough 

about  other  things,  but  the   last  one  of  them  will 

steal  whiskey,  Henry,  and  you  ought  to  know  that  by  this 
time.  Fetch  it  right  here  and  put  it  in  my  haversack ; 
even  then  it  won't  be  safe."  The  old  fellow  chuckled 
and  Henry  grinned  as  he  tucked  the  flask  snugly  away 
in  the  corner  of  his  bag.  He  was  not  a  hard  drinker,  or 
at  all  dissipated,  but  was  at  his  age  somewhat  dependent 
upon  a  regular  stimulant. 

"  Boy,"  said  he,  turning  to  me,  for  by  this  time  he  had 
begun  to  be  familiar,  —  "  boy,  I  hope  you  're  not  a  little 
drunkard  ;  it 's  the  meanest,  lowest,  dirtiest  passion  in 
the  world.  When  a  man  gets  to  loving  whiskey,  he  '11 
steal  it  from  his  best  friend."  Then,  lowering  his  voice, 
he  told  me  it  was  not  the  soldiers  he  feared,  but  one  of 
his  officers,  who  never  left  him  a  drop  whenever  he  could 
lay  hands  upon  his  "  poor  little  flask." 

By  this  time  our  troops  were  mounted  on  the  train, 
and,  with  a  snort  and  a  jerk  and  a  bump  and  a  thousand 
thumps,  we  began  the  trip  to  Saltville.  After  a  most 
uncomfortable  ride,  we  reached  the  place.  Darkness  was 
upon  us.  Like  other  localities  where  salt  is  found,  it  was 
a  galled,  cheerless  spot,  without  verdure  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  wells  and  troughs  and  boilers.  The  adjacent  country 
was,  however,  pretty  enough,  and  we  soon  found  a  camp 
in    a  nei<2-hborinsr  wood.     The  hills  about  Saltville  were 


THE  CONFEDERATE  RESERVES       377 

almost  as  regular  as  hemispheres  ;  some  were  prettily 
wooded  and  others  were  pasture  lands  to  their  summits. 
A  mile  below  the  town  flowed  the  Holston  River,  which 
on  our  side  had  high,  bluffy  banks.  The  only  crossing  was 
at  a  ford,  which  was  very  defensible.  The  Union  general, 
Burbridge,  with  a  force  organized  in  eastern  Kentucky, 
was  advancing  to  destroy  these  salt-works,  which  were 
important  to  the  Confederacy.  We  were  not  well  in- 
formed concerning  the  strength  of  the  expedition,  the 
direction  of  his  advance,  or  the  troops  opposing  him. 
The  orders  received  by  Colonel  Preston  had  simply 
directed  him  to  report  with  the  regiment  at  Saltville  as 
quickly  as  possible.  Now  we  were  to  ascertain  the  situ- 
ation. 

By  the  time  we  had  located  our  camp,  Henry  arrived 
with  the  horses.  Our  headquarters  were  established 
under  a  wide-spreading  sugar -maple,  where  he  proceeded 
to  build  a  roaring  fire,  and  spread  our  blankets  upon 
the  first  incline  of  a  hill.  After  unbuckling  his  sword 
and  standing  it  against  a  tree,  the  colonel,  seated  upon 
a  camp-stool,  produced  a  comb,  with  which  he  caressed 
his  long  beard,  and  proceeded  to  swear,  in  livid  and 
picturesque  fluency,  about  everybody  and  everything  he 
knew,  without  any  ill  temper  or  malice  whatsoever. 
Henry  busied  himself  brewing  a  pot  of  tea  and  prepar- 
ing a  really  dainty  meal.  He  always  had  a  mysterious 
store  of  good  things  supplied  by  "  Ole  Missis,"  who 
warned  him  to  hide  them  from  "  Ole  Marster  "  until 
used,  because  she  knew  he  would  surely  give  them  away 
to  some  poor  soldier,  if  they  came  into  his  possession. 
Whenever  provisions  ran  low,  Henry  disappeared  for  a 
day  or  two,  and  when  he  returned  he  came  "  bearing 
sheaves."  The  colonel's  home  in  Montgomery  County 
was  not  so  far  away  that  it  was  out  of  striking  distance 


378  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

of  the  faithful  slave,  and  there  he  found  "  Ole  Missis," 
one  of  God's  noblest  and  best  creatures,  praying  for 
"  Ole  Marster  "  and  preparing  comforts  for  him.  Mrs. 
Preston  was  known  far  and  wide  as  the  most  devout 
woman  in  all  the  countryside.  She  often  wept  at  the 
unregenerate  profanity  of  her  husband,  whose  only  fault 
was  that  inveterate  habit. 

Once  I  asked  Henry  if  the  colonel  swore  at  home. 

"  Yes,  sir,  he  do  !  "  said  Henry  emphatically.  "  Ole 
Marster  will  cuss  anywhar ;  nothin'  kain't  stop  him. 
But,  Lord,  lieutenant,  he  doan'  mean  nothin'  by  it.  Out- 
side of  cussin'  he  's  des  as  good  and  des  as  'ligious  as 
Ole  Missis ;  and  bofe  of  'em  gwine  to  be  saved,  as  sho' 
as  you  born,  fur  Ole  Missis  prays  enough  to  wipe  out  Ole 
Marster's  swearin',  an'  neither  doan'  do  no  harm  in  de 
world,  and  I  know  Gord  ain't  gwine  to  separate  no  such 
pa'r  of  people  ez  dey  is,  in  Heaven." 

We  sat  in  the  cheery  light  of  our  camp-fire  and  re- 
freshed ourselves  with  an  excellent  cup  of  tea.  The 
autumn  air  was  nipping,  and  the  newly  risen  moon  strug- 
gled through  the  mists  which  rose  from  the  valley  around 
the  salt-wells. 

"  How  are  the  horses  feeling,  Henry  ?  "  inquired  the 
colonel. 

"  Fuss  rate,  sir.  We  tuk  it  easy  comin'  down,  and 
they  is  fresh  as  kittens." 

"  Can  you  ride,  young  'un  ?  "  said  the  colonel,  turning 
to  me,  as  he  dropped  a  coal  from  his  hand  into  his  long 
pipe  and  puffed  away  contentedly.  Assured  that  I  could, 
he  directed  Henry  to  saddle  Bob  and  Robin,  and  said,  "  I 
want  to  ride  out  somewhei^e  and  find  out  something.  I 
don't  know  what  we  came  here  for,  or  who  is  coming,  or 
who  is  going  to  do  the  fighting." 

We  rode  out  together  to  the  depot.    Ascertaining  there 


THE   CONFEDERATE   RESERVES  379 

that  General  Jackson,  of  Tennessee,  called  "  Mudwall," 
was  the  commanding-  officer,  we  repaired  to  his  headquar- 
ters. From  him  we  soon  ascertained  what  troops  were  on 
hand,  and  the  location  of  the  enemy.  During  the  day, 
General  Jackson's  forces  north  of  the  Holston  had  been 
skirmishing  with  Burbridge's  advance,  and  retiring  before 
him.  To-night,  Burbridge  was  camped  a  short  distance 
across  the  river,  and  our  picket  lines  were  only  about 
three  miles  from  town.  Our  main  body  of  cavalry  was 
camped  near  the  ford,  and  there  it  was  proposed  to  give 
the  enemy  battle  on  the  morrow. 

Old  "  Mudwall "  was  a  common-looking  man,  with  a 
drawl  in  his  voice,  and  appeared  to  be  taking  things  very 
easy.  Still,  he  showed  courage  and  intelligence  in  his  dis- 
positions. He  told  us  he  was  expecting  to  be  reinforced 
by  Robertson's  cavalry,  which  was  coming  up  from  east 
Tennessee.  He  hoped  they  would  arrive  before  morning, 
but  intended  to  fight  whether  they  reached  him  in  time 
or  not. 

"  Kernel,"  said  he,  "  my  men  tell  me  the  Yanks  have 
got  a  lot  of  nigger  soldiers  along.  Do  you  think  your 
reserves  will  fight  niggers  ?  " 

"  Fight  'em  ?  "  said  the  old  colonel,  bristling  up ;  "  by 

,  sir,  they  '11  eat  'em   up !      No  !    not   eat    'em   up  ! 

That 's  too  much !     By ,  sir,  we  '11  cut  'em  up  !  " 

General  Jackson  explained  the  plan  of  battle  to  Colonel 
Preston ;  showed  him  how  his  line  of  battle  would  be 
formed  upon  the  river,  above  and  below  the  ford  ;  ex- 
plained what  troops  he  proposed  to  place  in  front ;  and 
then  pointed  out  to  us  a  little  valley  on  the  left  of,  and  at 
right  angles  to,  the  road  to  the  ford.  In  that  valley  we 
were  to  take  our  position  in  reserve  as  soon  as  the  enemy 
appeared  and  firing  began.  It  was  but  a  short  distance 
from  our  camp.     As  we  rode  homeward,  the  colonel  vis- 


380  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

ited  the  ground  we  were  to  occupy.  It  was  now  bright 
moonlight.  After  going  a  short  distance  down  the  de- 
pression he  said,  "  This  place  is  as  snug  and  safe  as  a 
dovecote.  We  can  sleep  here  to-morrow  until  we  are 
ordered  in." 

He  was  jolly  at  the  prospect  of  a  fight.  I  told  him 
what  a  good  joke  on  my  father  I  considered  it  that,  send- 
ing me  down  here  to  get  me  out  of  harm's  way,  I  had 
come  straight  to  a  battle.  He  and  my  father  were  old 
and  devoted  friends.  When  he  heard  that,  instead  of 
joining  in  my  laughter,  he  grew  silent,  and  at  last,  with 

an  effort  at  badinage,  he  said,  "  I  don't  care  a whether 

you  get  shot  or  not,  but,  hoy,  I  would  not  be  compelled  to 
tell  the  general  ab&ut  it,  if  you  are  hurt,  for  all  the  wealth 
of  the  Indies."  The  idea  seemed  to  prey  upon  him.  In 
the  few  short  hours  we  had  been  together,  he  had  evidently 
begun  to  look  upon  me  as  his  pet.  He  had  few  congenial 
companions  among  his  rough  command,  and  he  preferred 
always  the  society  of  young  people.  When  we  reached 
camp,  he  stood  warming  himself  by  the  fire,  musing,  as  he 
held  out  his  hands  to  the  glare. 

"  Fetch  my  woolen  nightcap,  Henry,"  said  he,  at  last ; 
and,  as  he  fitted  it  over  his  white  locks,  he  gave  a  sigh, 
saying,  "  what  the  devil  did  they  send  you  here  for  any- 
how? There's  nothing  for  you  to  do."  Changing  his 
mood  as  he  turned  towards  his  pallet,  his  face  broke  into 
a  broad  grin,  and  he  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  I  know  !  They 
sent  you  to  keep  my  back  warm.  I  told  Kemper  I  had 
the  rheumatics,  and  he  sent  you  to  snuggle  up  to  me  o' 
nights.     Come  on  to  bed." 

So,  doing  as  I  was  bid,  I  crawled  up  close  to  Colonel 
Bob,  and,  for  many  and  many  a  night  thereafter,  that  was 
the  way  we  always  fell  asleep  together.  God  bless  him  ! 
I  know  he  is  in  heaven.     A  heart  more  tender,  a  soul 


THE  CONFEDERATE  RESERVES        381 

more  generous,  a  courage  more  dauntless,  no  man  ever 
possessed  ;  and  in  battle,  in  bivouac,  or  under  his  own 
roof-tree,  lie  was  the  sweetest  old  man  that  ever  granted 
to  a  young  one  the  privilege  of  his  instruction  and  confi- 
dence, —  barring  one  fault,  that  he  "  swore  like  our  army 
in  Flanders." 

Up  betimes  in  the  morning,  we  found  the  road  to  the 
ford  filled  with  cavalrymen.  Some  had  fallen  back  before 
the  advance  of  the  enemy  ;  some  had  arrived  from  Abing- 
don during  the  night.  All  were  dismounting  to  fight  on 
foot.  Horse  details  were  leading  the  beasts  back  to  posi- 
tions of  safety. 

We  moved  our  command  out  promptly,  and  denied  to 
our  assigned  position  on  the  left.  The  hill  in  our  front, 
on  which  our  advance  line  was  posted,  concealed  us  com- 
pletely from  the  enemy.  Behind  us,  another  hill  of  unus- 
ual height,  cleared  on  its  summit,  gave  a  battery  planted 
there  the  range  of  the  ford  and  of  the  ground  beyond. 
Our  front  lines  had  not  completed  their  formations  on 
the  river  bluffs  when  we  heard  first  a  volley,  and  after- 
wards a  dropping  fire  of  musketry.  Our  pickets  beyond 
the  river  were  engaged,  and  falling  back  before  the  ad- 
vancing enemy.  Climbing  the  hill  behind  us,  the  view 
was  excellent. 

Soon  our  videttes  were  all  safely  across  the  ford  and 
within  our  lines,  and  the  next  move  in  the  game  was  to  be 
made  by  the  enemy.  Out  he  came  in  due  time,  in  battle 
array,  —  infantry,  cavalry,  and  artillery,  —  showing  him- 
self along  the  edge  of  the  woods  which  crowned  the  slopes 
of  pasture  land  beyond  the  ford. 

"  Bang !  "  went  the  guns  of  the  battery  on  the  hill  be- 
hind us,  and  a  flock  of  little  six-pound  shells  flew  singing 
over  our  heads  towards  some  cavalry  debouching  from  the 
woods  a  mile  away.     The  artillery  of  the  enemy  promptly 


382  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

took  position  and  delivered  a  return  fire,  but  was  unable 
to  secure  an  elevation  sufficient  to  reach  our  battery. 

Out  of  sight,  fully  protected,  our  regiment  lay  there 
between  those  dueling  batteries.  It  was  very  noisy,  for 
the  shells  of  the  enemy  exploded  in  the  woods  on  the  hill- 
side in  our  rear.  Curious  to  know  how  our  raw  recruits 
would  behave  under  fire,  I  returned  to  where  they  were, 
and  was  much  gratified  at  the  spirit  of  the  men,  especially 
the  youngsters.  It  was  with  difficulty  that  the  colonel 
kept  them  from  scrambling  up  to  the  top  of  the  hill  in  our 
front  to  watch  the  fight.  The  men  were  conducting  them- 
selves like  veterans.  Many  of  the  boys  were  sighting 
their  guns,  and  showing  how  they  would  "  shoot  a  nigger," 
if  they  had  a  chance. 

"Where  are  your  field  officers,  colonel?"  said  I,  ob- 
serving that  he  was  the  only  one  upon  the  ground.  "  The 
lieutenant-colonel  is  on  furlough,  and  the  major  cut  his 
foot  with  an  axe  last  week,  and  is  in  the  hospital  at 
Dublin,"  said  he,  apparently  unconscious  that  their  ab- 
sence made  any  difference,  or  should  be  supplied.  "  Say, 
young  'un,  you  '11  have  to  give  orders  to  the  left  side. 
I  '11  attend  to  the  right."  By  the  left  side  he  meant  the 
left  flank  of  the  regiment.  He  proposed  that  he  should 
act  as  colonel  and  lieutenant-colonel,  and  was  uncon- 
sciously promoting  me  to  be  major. 

"  But,  colonel,"  I  protested,  "  will  not  your  senior  cap- 
tains take  offense  that  you  do  not  assign  them  to  the  posi- 
tions to  which  their  rank  entitles  them?  " 

"  Shut  up  !  "  said  he  fiercely  ;  "  I  'm  running  this  regi- 
ment.    They  don't   know,    and    don't    care  a 

about  that !  I  know  what  I  want.  If  you  put  such 
notions  in  their  heads,  there  '11  be  no  end  of  trouble  here. 
You  go  and  do  what  I  tell  you  !  Do  you  hear  ?  "  So  off 
I  went,  and  perched  myself  opposite  the  left  battalion.     I 


THE   CONFEDERATE   RESERVES  383 

did  not  know  a  man  in  the  regiment,  or  half  a  dozen  offi- 
cers. It  would  not  have  surprised  me  to  hear  them  tell 
me  to  go  to  the  devil  when  I  undertook  to  give  them  com- 
mands. It  seems,  however,  that  they  considered  me  as  a 
member  of  the  colonel"1  s  staff,  and  nobody  raised  any  ques- 
tion of  precedence. 

The  battle  of  Saltville  was  a  very  pretty  affair.  The 
enemy  advanced  with  great  spirit  to  the  attack,  but  our 
troops  on  our  first  line  had  little  difficulty  in  repulsing 
him.  Only  once  were  we  brought  under  fire.  Near  mid- 
day, some  colored  troops  of  the  enemy  found  a  rather  open 
place  on  the  left  of  our  line,  near  where  the  streamlet, 
coursing  through  the  depression  we  occupied,  entered  the 
river,  at  a  point  where  it  was  shallow  and  rocky.  They 
pushed  up  dangerously  near  to  this  possible  crossing, 
and  their  bullets  began  to  search  our  valley.  The  officer 
commanding  the  line  in  our  front  ran  down  to  where  we 
were  asking  for  reinforcements.  Colonel  Bob,  without  a 
moment's  hesitation,  moved  our  left  battalion  down  the 
valley  and  up  the  hill. 

There  the  men  laid  down  on  the  bluffs,  and  were  hotly 
engaged  for  fifteen  minutes,  driving  the  enemy  back  with 
a  loss  of  but  one  or  two  of  our  men.  Then  we  were 
ordered  to  withdraw  and  resume  our  place  in  reserve,  and 
took  no  further  part  in  the  action. 

The  Confederate  losses  were  quite  heavy,  especially 
upon  the  hill  in  our  immediate  front.  There  Colonel 
Trimble,  in  command,  was  killed  in  sight  of,  and  but  a 
hundred  yards  in  front  of,  our  men.  His  death  was  re- 
markable. He  was  standing  still,  directing  the  firing  of 
his  troops.  Of  a  sudden  he  sprang  high  in  the  air,  with 
arms  and  legs  extended  at  full  length.  He  leaped  at  least 
five  feet,  and  fell  to  the  ground  collapsed  and  stone-dead. 
We  afterwards  learned  that  he  was  shot  through  the  heart, 


384  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

and  were  told  that  this  spasmodic  action  is  not  at  all 
unusual  in  such  instances. 

Our  forces  captured  about  two  hundred  prisoners, 
mostly  wounded.  By  three  o'clock,  Burbridge  was  in  full 
retreat,  pursued  by  our  cavalry.  All  danger  being  past, 
we  were  directed  the  next  day  to  repair  to  Wythe ville 
and  go  into  camp.  While  our  reserve  regiment  had  not 
been  seriously  engaged,  another  regiment  of  reserves, 
commanded  by  Colonel  Tom  Preston,  was  in  the  front 
line,  acquired  a  great  reputation  for  its  gallantry  in  the 
action,  and  sustained  severe  losses. 

"Not  much  of  a  fight  for  us,"  said  Colonel  Bob  con- 
temptuously, that  night.  He  seemed  graveled  at  the  better 
luck  of  his  cousin  Tom.  His  impatience  to  have  a  hand 
in  the  sport  had  given  me  some  very  unpleasant  moments. 
All  during  the  day  he  would  beckon  to  me  to  leave  my 
post  as  major,  and,  converting  me  into  a  courier  for  a 
while,  he  would  send  me  to  the  general  with  requests  for 
leave  to  "  move  up."  The  general  was  on  the  other  side 
of  the  road  leading  to  the  ford.  The  bullets  were  singing 
up  that  road  like  bumble-bees,  and  every  time  I  crossed  it, 
my  heart  was  in  my  mouth.  My  sudden  transitions  from 
major  to  courier  and  back  again  were  most  amusing. 

"  Well,  the  Yankees  did  n't  kill  papa's  little  bouncing 
boy  after  all,"  said  he  contentedly,  as  we  hugged  up  to- 
gether under  the  blankets  that  night.  "  I  'm  glad  of  it, 
for  you  're  warm  as  a  toast,  and  my  back  is  better 
already."  I  knew  how  much  stronger  his  feeling  was 
than  he  expressed  it. 

At  Wytheville,  the  regiment  was  ordered  to  drill,  and 
an  additional  drill-master  arrived.  We  two  toiled  away 
at  our  hopeless  task  of  making  men  sixty  years  old  stand 
straight  and  keep  step  with  sixteen-year-old  boys.  One 
day  I  suggested  to  Colonel  Bob  that,  if  he  would  let  me 


THE   CONFEDERATE   RESERVES  385 

make  up  a  company  of  boys  by  selections  from  several 
companies,  I  would  give  him  a  really  efficient  company. 
He  liked  the  idea,  and  before  long  we  had  a  real  slashing 
company  of  soldiers,  worthy  of  any  regiment. 

About  November  1,  we  were  ordered  to  move  to  Chris- 
tiansburg,  and  march  thence  into  Floyd  County,  deserter- 
hunting.  The  mountainous  regions  of  southwest  Vir- 
ginia, western  North  Carolina,  and  east  Tennessee  were 
the  places  of  rendezvous  for  runaway  Confederate  sol- 
diers. So  numerous  and  so  bold  had  they  become  in 
Floyd  County,  Virginia,  that  they  not  only  defied  arrest, 
but  often  formed  bands,  seized  Confederate  supplies,  and 
threatened  the  property  and  even  the  lives  of  Confederate 
soldiers  and  sympathizers.  Our  command  was  ordered 
there  to  break  up  some  of  these  organizations,  and  to 
capture  the  ringleaders.  It  was  a  thankless  task,  but  one 
requiring  some  ability,  and  not  unattended  with  danger. 

Marching  out  from  Christiansburg  to  a  point  in  the 
mountains  of  Floyd,  we  went  into  camp  in  the  very  heart 
of  what  was  known  as  Sisson's  Kingdom.  That  was  the 
name  of  a  large  family  residing  there.  Many  of  them 
had  volunteered,  and  then  deserted ;  and  now  they  and 
their  friends  held  sway,  defied  the  law,  invited  other 
runaways  to  join  them,  and  resisted  all  control  of  Con- 
federate authority. 

When  this  state  of  affairs,  extending  over  a  wide  stretch 
of  country,  became  known  to  me  in  the  autumn  of  1864, 
it  caused  my  first  misgivings  concerning  our  ultimate 
success ;  it  was  so  widespread,  and  so  strangely  in  con- 
trast with  the  loyalty  of  the  mountaineers  in  the  Revolu- 
tion, when  Washington  proclaimed  that  to  them  he  looked 
as  his  last  reliance  in  extremity. 

Colonel  Preston,  notwithstanding  his  genial  nature,  was 
a  man  of  resources  and  firmness.     If  he  hated  one  mean 


386  THE   END   OF   AN  ERA 

thing  worse  than  another,  it  was  a  sneak.  He  counted 
these  deserters  among  the  most  contemptible  of  the  human 
race ;  and,  while  he  was  incapable  of  brutality  towards 
any  living  creature,  he  knew  when  to  be  severe,  and  be- 
lieved it  was  his  duty  to  deal  with  them  summarily,  and 
break  them  up. 

His  first  advices  upon  our  arrival  were  to  the  effect 
that  our  presence  had  caused  the  deserters  to  abscond. 
He  did  not  believe  a  word  of  this,  but  pretended  that  he 
did.  With  great  cunning,  he  acted  as  if  he  proposed 
making  no  efforts  to  secure  them.  At  the  same  time, 
through  a  well-planned  system  of  spies,  he  was  ascertain- 
ing accurately  their  whereabouts  and  habits.  More  than 
once,  he  sent  me  many  miles  away  to  receive  reports  from 
his  spies,  so  as  to  avoid  having  them  seen  about  our  own 
camp. 

In  due  time,  he  was  ready  to  act.  The  deserters,  who 
had  in  fact  left  their  homes  when  we  appeared,  began  to 
make  their  presence  felt.  Lured  by  our  apparent  indiffer- 
ence, they  became  incautious.  The  old  fellow  knew  the 
location  of  the  house  of  every  deserter,  and  which  were 
ringleaders,  and  which  of  them  were  at  home.  He  had 
also  located  several  deserter  camps  in  the  mountains. 
Now  came  the  part  of  his  plan  most  difficult  of  execution. 
Awaiting  the  time  when  the  moon  rose  late,  he  divided 
several  companies  of  our  regiment  into  small  parties  under 
command  of  intelligent  officers.  The  men  were  not  told 
of  the  nature  of  the  expedition.  Only  the  officers  intrusted 
with  the  work  were  thoroughly  instructed  in  the  locations 
to  be  sought,  and  the  duties  to  be  performed. 

Upon  the  night  selected,  we  started  forth.  Those  hav- 
ing the  greatest  distances  to  travel  left  earliest.  The 
man  whom  I  was  assigned  to  capture  was  a  notorious 
fellow,  living  about  six  miles  away  in  a  sequestered  gorge 


THE  CONFEDERATE  RESERVES       387 

of  the  mountains,  quite  remote  from  any  road.  I  had  a 
party  of  ten  men.  A  guide  conducted  us,  and  the  way  in 
which  he  threaded  his  course  in  the  darkness  through  a 
trackless  forest  was  truly  marvelous.  Towards  midnight 
he  whispered  that  we  were  nearing  the  deserter's  cabin. 

Leaving  the  men  behind  us,  we  approached  and  walked 
around  the  premises  to  get  the  correct  location.  Return- 
ing, I  brought  the  men  up  and  instructed  them  in  their 
duties.  They  were  deployed  in  a  circle  around  the  pre- 
mises, and  advanced  by  signals  given  from  man  to  man. 
It  was  a  business  calculated  to  make  a  man's  blood  run 
very  chilly.  A  dog  barked  !  He  came  bounding  out. 
One  of  the  men  plunged  a  bayonet  into  his  breast,  between 
his  forelegs,  so  true  that  he  never  yelped  or  whined. 

"  Who  's  there  ?  "  called  a  sharp,  nasal,  female  voice 
from  within.  No  one  answered.  The  words  were  re- 
peated.    I  was  to  do  the  talking. 

"Is  that  Mrs.  ?"  I  asked,  as   soon  as  I  could 

control  my  voice. 

"  Yes.  Who  are  you  ?  what  do  you  want  ?  "  came 
back  quickly  and  excitedly.  I  dropped  to  the  ground, 
placed  my  ear  to  it,  and  was  sure  I  heard  shuffling  about 
within  the  house,  and  a  sound  like  that  of  a  closing  door. 

When  she  had  repeated  her  questions,  I  said  quietly, 
i  We  have  come  to  arrest  your  husband.  He  need  not 
attempt  to  resist  or  escape.     The  house  is  surrounded." 

Betraying  her  excitement  by  her  strident  answer,  she 
exclaimed  :  "  William  ean't  here,  thank  God,  and  ean't 
bin  here  for  more  'n  a  month.  I  hope  by  this  he  has 
reached  the  Yankee  lines.  Thar  's  whar  he  started  fur, 
and  whar  I  told  him  to  go  ef  he  did  n't  want  to  be 
killed." 

"  You  must  permit  us  to  search  the  house,  madam," 
said  I,  as  kindly  as  I  could. 


388  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

"  Cert'nly.  You  kin  search  the  house,"  said  she ;  but 
she  delayed  some  time  before  unbolting  the  door. 

While  waiting-  for  admission,  I  took  four  men  and 
posted  them  opposite  the  ends  and  sides  of  the  house,  tell- 
ing them  to  watch  beneath  it,  and  not  to  move  or  utter  a 
word.  One  of  them  sat  down  on  what  seemed  to  be  a 
goods  box,  about  twenty  feet  from  the  gable  end  of  the 
cabin.  Then  I  detailed  two  other  men  to  build  a  fire  in 
the  yard.  With  the  four  other  men,  I  entered  the  cabin. 
It  was  a  pathetic  sight,  and  my  heart  chided  me  for  the 
part  I  bore  in  it.  The  woman's  teeth  were  chattering  with 
excitement  and  fright.  Three  children  sat  up  in  a  trundle- 
bed.  The  poor  woman  had  tried  to  beat  up  a  feather-bed, 
and  had  drawn  the  covering  over  it  on  one  side,  so  as  to 
give  it  the  appearance  of  having  had  but  one  occupant ; 
but  when  I  threw  the  sheets  back,  there  were  the  prints 
of  two  bodies,  and  it  was  warm  on  both  sides.  The  babies 
began  to  cry.  One  pleaded,  "  Where  's  my  papa? "  The 
mother  hushed  its  mouth  with  her  hand. 

There  was  no  doubt  about  his  being  there.  The  only 
question  was,  where  was  he  ?  Vain  was  the  search  in  the 
closets,  under  the  bed,  in  the  half  room  under  the  roof, 
and  up  the  chimney.  At  last  we  examined  the  floor,  and 
found  a  broad,  loose  plank.  But  the  ground  underneath 
the  plank  was  unbroken,  and  our  men  could,  by  the  light 
of  the  newly-lit  fire,  see  under  the  whole  structure.  In 
one  corner  beneath  the  house  we  noticed  a  pile  of  loose 
dirt,  but  it  made  no  impression  at  the  time.  We  had 
almost  abandoned  the  search,  when,  of  a  sudden,  a  tre- 
mendous hubbub  in  the  yard  sent  all  of  us  running  there. 
It  was  on  the  dark  side  of  the  house.  We  heard  a  stifled 
cry  of  "  Help  !  Here  he  is  !  Help  !  "  and,  as  we  came  up, 
we  saw  two  men,  half  buried  in  the  earth,  grappled  and 
struggling  for  the  possession  of  a  gun. 


THE   CONFEDERATE  RESERVES  389 

The  deserter,  escaping,  had  run  into  the  arms  of  my 
sentinel.  Sitting  there  on  the  goods  box,  watching  in- 
tently, the  sentinel  heard  a  sound  below  him.  He  was  an 
intelligent,  strapping  youngster  of  about  eighteen.  Ke- 
rn embering  my  caution  to  be  quiet,  he  stepped  aside  and 
listened.  A  moment  later  the  box  tilted  towards  him,  and 
he  squatted  behind  it  so  that  it  concealed  him.  He  saw 
the  man's  head  and  shoulders  emerge  from  a  hole  in  the 
ground.  The  deserter  passed  up  his  gun,  and  was  scram- 
bling out  of  the  hole,  when  the  sentinel  sprang  upon  him, 
and  the  struggle  in  which  we  found  them  engaged  began. 
The  deserter  was  the  stronger  of  the  two,  and  had  nearly 
dragged  the  young  fellow  back  into  the  hole  with  him 
when  we  came  up.  The  other  men  promptly  lent  a  help- 
ing hand,  and  we  soon  had  our  prisoner  secured. 

He  had  dug  a  tunnel  under  his  house,  so  that  when 
danger  threatened  he  could  drop  through  the  floor,  crawl 
to  the  opening  of  his  secret  passageway,  and,  passing 
through  it,  come  out  beyond  the  cordon  of  sentinels  and 
escape.  No  one  would  have  suspected  that  the  box  in  the 
yard,  with  its  dirty  flooring  of  planks  and  grass,  was  the 
outlet  of  his  subterranean  gallery.  On  several  previous 
occasions,  he  had  eluded  arrest  in  this  way.  Catching 
him  now  was  simply  accidental  good  luck.  The  fellow 
yielded  without  many  words.  He  was  a  superb  specimen 
of  manhood,  and  not  bad-looking.  When  we  started 
away,  he  said,  "  Good-by,  Sal.  See  you  ag'in  soon,  I 
reckin,"  and  then  he  looked  at  me  and  laughed,  kissed  the 
children,  and  said,  "  Wall,  I  guess  I  'm  ready."  The 
woman  had  become  defiant  and  abusive,  and  refused 
some  money  which  I  offered  her. 

The  reticence  and  secretiveness  of  these  people  was 
surprising.  They  were  fearless,  and  hated  inveterately. 
They  declined  favors  of  any  kind.     Before  we  had  gone 


390  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

a  quarter  of  a  mile,  we  heard  a  cow's  horn  winded  from 
the  cabin.  It  was  the  signal  of  the  woman  to  her  friends. 
It  was  almost  day  when  we  reached  the  camp.  Several 
other  parties  had  returned  before  us.  By  eight  o'clock, 
all  our  raiders  were  back.  A  few  had  made  failures. 
One  party  had  a  sharp  fusilade  with  the  deserters,  and 
had  a  man  wounded.  Most  of  us  were  successful,  and 
our  expeditions  brought  an  aggregate  of  between  fifteen 
and  twenty  deserters  into  camp.  They  were  placed  in 
charge  of  a  strong  guard,  and  sent  back  to  Christians- 
burg.  Having  secured  the  most  notorious  of  their  lead- 
ers, we  flattered  ourselves  that  we  had  broken  the  back  of 
their  rebellion  ;  but  in  this  we  deluded  ourselves. 

Within  a  week,  the  surgeon  of  the  regiment  rode  out 
with  me  to  a  farm  where  we  heard  we  could  procure 
good  butter.  As  we  were  returning  through  a  narrow 
pass,  talking  unconcernedly,  and  with  no  thought  of 
danger,  we  saw  two  puffs  of  smoke  away  up  among  the 
rhododendrons  on  the  mountain-side,  and  almost  at  the 
same  moment  that  we  heard  the  reports  my  horse  gave 
a  snort  and  plunge,  and  the  doctor  exclaimed,  "  I  am 
shot ! "  I  saw  him  seize  his  bridle  with  his  right  arm. 
We  put  spurs  to  our  horses,  and  galloped  out  of  that 
pass  in  a  lively  way. 

"  Hurt  much,  doctor?  "  said  I. 

"  No  ;  but  my  bridle  arm  is  disabled,"  he  replied. 

Just  as  we  cleared  the  pass,  my  horse,  which  had  been 
behaving  singularly,  stumbled  and  fell,  and  I  found  he  was 
shot  through  the  body,  back  of  the  saddle-skirts.  A  trail 
of  blood  marked  our  coarse  along  the  road.  By  good  luck 
the  beast  belonged  to  the  Confederate  States.  The  doc- 
tor and  I  lost  no  time  riding  home  together  on  his  horse. 
His  arm,  although  broken,  soon  healed ;  but  we  hunted 
for  no  more  butter  on  that  trip  to  Floyd. 


THE  CONFEDERATE  RESERVES       391 

Winter  was  coming  on.  We  were  ordered  to  return  to 
Dublin  Depot,  and  to  build  cabins  or  shelters  for  winter 
quarters.  Soon  snow  fell,  and  we  entered  on  a  period  of 
dreary  inactivity.  As  Christmas  approached,  I  obtained 
a  short  furlough,  glad  enough  to  return  from  the  moun- 
tains to  friends  and  relatives  near  Richmond.  Two  or 
three  days  after  my  departure,  the  regiment  was  again 
suddenly  ordered  to  Saltville,  which  Burbridge  captured 
December  20,  with  part  of  our  command ;  but  I  did  not 
hear  of  it  until  a  week  after  the  occurrence. 


CHAPTER  XXTV 

THE   BEGINNING   OF  THE   END 

Hints  from  home  indicated  that  by  this  time  visitors 
to  the  Confederate  capital  were  most  welcome  when  they 
brought  their  rations. 

I  had  been  living  in  a  land  of  milk  and  honey.  In  the 
rich  pasture  lands  of  the  southwest,  people  were  still 
blessed  with  comparative  plenty.  Their  herds  of  cattle 
were  unexhausted,  and  supplied  them  with  abundance  of 
dairy  products.  Before  starting  on  furlough,  I  gathered 
together  quite  a  supply  of  butter,  eggs,  maple  sugar, 
honey,  and  other  household  comforts.  We  had  no  express 
service,  and,  to  guard  against  the  plunder  of  my  treasures, 
I  rode  with  them  in  a  baggage-car.  Butter  cost  only 
$8  a  pound  and  eggs  were  but  $3  a  dozen,  in  southwest 
Virginia,  whereas  the  prices  in  Richmond  were  $25  a 
pound  and  $6  a  dozen. 

On  arriving  in  Richmond,  I  was  hailed  as  a  shrewd 
trader  and  rare  purveyor.  The  city,  in  its  chill  winter 
garb,  showed  signs  of  desperate  depletion.  The  problem 
of  sustenance  had  become  serious,  even  with  the  rich. 

The  clothing  of  the  most  prosperous  was  simple,  do- 
mestic, even  rough.  The  poorer  classes  were  scantily  clad 
in  every  kind  of  makeshift  garment,  ofttimes  in  rags. 
People  without  overcoats  met  one  another  upon  the  streets, 
and  talked  over  the  prospects  of  peace,  with  their  teeth 
chattering,  their  thin  garments  buttoned  over  their  chests, 
their  shoulders  drawn  up,  their  gloveless  hands  sunk  deep 


THE   BEGINNING  OF  THE   END  393 

lto  their  pockets  for  warmth.  At  meals,  the  dishes  were 
3W  and  simple,  procured  at  prices  which  sound  fabulous, 
lany  a  family  existed  upon  little  else  than  bacon  and 
ornfield  peas.  General  Lee,  who  had  a  keen  sense  of 
umor,  and  who,  under  less  trying  conditions,  would  have 
llowed  his  wit  to  play  freely,  was  once  asked  by  some 
lie  chatterer  who,  in  his  opinion,  was  the  best  friend 
f  the  Confederacy.  Answering  a  fool  according  to  his 
Dlly,  he  replied,  with  a  twinkle  of  his  eye,  "  The  only 
nfailing  friend  the  Confederacy  ever  had  was  cornfield 
eas." 

Many  States  have  chosen  flowers  as  their  emblem. 
iome,  if  not  all,  of  the  members  of  the  Confederate  sister- 
ood  ought,  in  gratitude,  to  select  the  blossom  of  the  corn- 
eld  pea.  Time  was  when  it  was  their  "  friend  in  need 
nd  friend  indeed."  Nobody  knows  how  many  people  in 
be  Confederacy  it  kept  from  actual  starvation.  I  never 
3e  a  bag  of  cornfield  peas  without  feeling  like  taking  off 
ly  hat  and  saying,  "  Here  is  to  you  and  the  rest  of  your 
amily.     May  you  live  long  and  prosper." 

Even  the  banked  and  economically  screened  coals  in 
be  grates  showed  the  pinch  of  hard  times.  When  gas 
ras  produced  at  all,  it  was  of  the  most  inferior  quality, 
nd  at  such  exorbitant  prices  that  most  people  were 
educed  to  the  use  of  tallow  candles. 

Hospitable  friends,  with  ample  means,  were  ashamed 
o  invite  visitors  to  share  their  humble  fare.  Long  lines 
f  stores  were  closed :  there  was  nothing  to  sell.  Cigars 
f  ordinary  quality  were  $10  each,  and  whiskey  was  $5  a 
irink.  I  needed  a  uniform  coat.  After  diligent  bargain- 
Qg,  I  engaged  one  at  $2000,  payable  on  delivery.  My 
lay  was  $120  a  month,  but  I  borrowed  the  money,  ordered 
he  coat,  and  had  to  wait  a  month  for  it.  A  man  who 
>rought  articles  through  the  Union  lines,  by  making  trips 


394  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

in  a  canoe  across  the  Chesapeake  Bay,  procured  a  blac 
felt  hat  for  me.  I  considered  it  a  bargain  when  he  deli'' 
ered  it  for  $100.  I  bought  some  leather  from  a  tan-vs 
while  in  southwest  Virginia,  and  the  making  of  the  bool 
with  my  own  leather  cost  me  $150. 

The  town  was  filled  with  hospitals.  Several  of  thei 
took  their  names  from  the  people  whose  houses  had  bee 
devoted  to  these  uses.  Many  ladies  had  volunteered  a 
matrons,  and  even  as  attendants.  It  was  part  of  the  dail 
life  of  Richmond  for  women  to  save  something  from  thei 
scant  sustenance,  and  take  or  send  it  to  the  sick  an 
wounded.  One  devoted  woman  so  distinguished  and  er 
deared  herself  to  everybody  by  her  self-sacrifice  that  th 
name  of  Sally  Tompkins  is  known  to  the  Confederate 
as  well  as  Florence  Nightingale  to  the  British,  or  Clar 
Barton  to  Americans.  She  was  commissioned  a  captair 
and  the  boys  all  call  her,  even  now,  "  Captain  Sally. 
God  will  make  her  an  officer  of  higher  grade. 

My  father  had  long  since  rejoined  his  brigade.  The 
were  now  transferred  to  the  right  of  our  army  at  Hatcher' 
Eun.  The  privations  and  sufferings  which  officers  an 
men  were  undergoing  were  very  fearful.  They  were  hue 
died  in  snow  and  mud,  without  adequate  supplies  of  foo« 
or  fuel  or  clothing.  I  went  out  to  the  camp,  but  had  no 
heart  to  remain  long.  The  struggle  was  no  longer  a  tes 
of  valor  in  excitement:  it  had  become  one  of  inactiv 
endurance. 

The  Confederate  authorities  had  adopted  the  policy  c 
enlisting  negro  troops.  One  sunny  afternoon,  I  visiter 
the  Capitol  Square,  and  witnessed  the  parade  and  drill  o 
a  battalion  of  Confederate  darkeys.  The  sight  was  i: 
strange  contrast  with  other  parades  I  had  witnessed  there 
—  that,  for  example,  of  the  New  York  Seventh  in  185£ 
or  of  the  cadets,  even,  in  the  preceding  May. 


THE   BEGINNING   OF  THE   END  395 

"  Ah !  "  I  thought,  "  this  is  but  the  beginning  of  the 
end." 

Yet  were  there  thousands  —  many  of  them  old,  many  of 
them  actually  pale  from  insufficient  nutriment,  many  of 
them  without  money  or  employment  to  provide  for  pre- 
sent or  future  —  who  still  believed  that  the  Confederacy 
would  achieve  its  independence. 

The  Confederate  Congress  passed  resolutions  of  hope, 
and  sent  orators  to  the  trenches  and  camps  to  tell  the  sol- 
diers that  "  the  darkest  hour  was  just  before  day."  One 
of  these  blatant  fellows  I  recall  particularly.  He  had 
been  a  fire-eater,  a  nullifier,  a  secessionist,  a  blood-and- 
thunder  orator,  foremost  in  urging  that  we  "  fight  for  our 
rights  in  the  Territories."  He  was  a  young  man,  an  able- 
bodied  man,  and  a  man  of  decided  ability.  But  never  for 
one  moment  was  his  precious  carcass  exposed  to  danger. 
There  was  something  inexpressibly  repulsive  to  me,  and 
irritating  beyond  expression,  when  I  saw  men  like  this, 
from  their  safe  places,  in  a  lull  in  hostilities,  ride  down  to 
the  Confederate  lines  during  that  awful  winter,  and  coun- 
sel our  poor  soldiers  to  fight  on.  Even  if  it  was  right  to 
fight  on,  they  had  no  right  to  advise  it.  Old  Jubal  Early 
had  opposed  the  war  until  it  actually  came  upon  him,  but 
when  it  was  inevitable,  he  fought.  Things  were  turning 
out  just  as  he  had  predicted  they  would.  When  these 
people,  whose  extravagant  oratory  had  done  so  much  to 
bring  on  the  fight,  and  who  had  then  contributed  nothing 
of  personal  service  to  sustain  it,  came  among  his  starving 
men  to  urge  them  to  sacrifices  which  they  themselves  had 
never  made,  he  treated  them  with  undisguised  scorn.  He 
refused  to  attend  their  meeting.  From  the  door  of  his 
hut  he  blistered  them  with  his  biting  satire  :  — 

"  Well  —  well  —   !  "   he  shouted ;  "  still   sicking 

them  on,  are  ye  ?  "     "  Before  you  leave,  tell  them  what 


396  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

you  think  of  your  rights  in  the  Territories  now."  "  One 
day  out  here  with  a  musket  would  help  the  cause  more 
than  all  your  talk."  "  Don't  talk  the  men  to  death.  You 
can't  talk  the  Yankees  to  death.  Fighting  is  the  only 
thing  that  talks  now." 

"  Old  Jubal "  had  his  faults,  but  skulking  in  bomb- 
proofs  was  not  one  of  them.  The  men  had  implicit  faith 
in  his  unflinching  courage.  He  punctured  and  embalmed 
the  lip-service  of  these  "  last  ditchers,"  as  he  called  them  ; 
and  his  soldiers,  taking  the  cue  from  him,  hooted  and  de- 
rided them,  and  long  resented  their  unwelcome  intrusion. 

Yet  have  I  lived  to  see  fellows  of  that  very  class  and 
coterie  successfully  pose  as  surviving  representatives  of 
the  Confederate  cause,  and  avail  themselves  of  the  false 
assumption  to  belittle  the  loyalty  and  service  of  real  Con- 
federate soldiers,  because,  forsooth,  those  true  and  tried 
men,  long  after  the  Confederate  cause  was  dead  and 
buried,  dared  to  differ  from  them  on  current  policies. 

Let  us  turn  to  the  more  interesting  description  of  social 
conditions  at  Richmond  during  the  last  days  of  the  Con- 
federacy. 

It  is  a  merciful  provision  of  Providence  which  supplies 
diversion  to  mankind  in  the  most  desperate  of  situations. 
In  the  beleaguered  capital,  even  amid  the  darkest  hours 
of  our  fortunes,  there  were  hearts  throbbing  with  old  emo- 
tions which  banish  thoughts  of  grief ;  and  places  where 
people  met,  clothed  in  the  impenetrable  armor  of  youth 
and  joy,  to  dance  and  laugh  adversity  to  scorn.  War, 
pestilence,  and  famine  are  impotent  to  slay,  infect,  or 
starve  the  little  naked  archer. 

Richmond  was  filled  with  young  girls  betrothed  to 
young  officers  in  the  trenches  about  that  city  and  Peters- 
burg. It  was  not  susprising,  for  never  did  a  city  of  its 
population  contain  more  beautiful  and  brilliant  women 
than  did  Richmond  at  that  time. 


THE  BEGINNING   OF  THE  END  397 

The  wedding  bells  chimed  merrily  in  the  wintry  air  for 
the  coming  nuptials  of  Colonel  William  B.  Tabb,  59th 
Virginia  Infantry,  Wise's  Brigade,  and  Miss  Emily  Ruth- 
erford. 

The  Tabbs  were  among  the  oldest  people  of  Tidewater, 
and  the  Rutherfords  were  of  the  best  of  Richmond's 
earliest  business  men.  Colonel  Tabb  was  a  tall,  brown- 
eyed,  winsome  youth  of  twenty-eight,  whose  gallantry  on 
many  a  field  gave  him  more  than  ordinary  title  to  his 
stars,  and  whose  modesty  and  gentleness  had  brought 
him  troops  of  friends. 

Emily  Rutherford,  with  her  peach-bloom  cheeks  and 
great,  wondering,  fawn-like  eyes,  was  "  queen  of  the  rose- 
bud garden  of  girls "  of  her  own  circle  ;  and  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Rutherford  presided  over  a  home  proverbial  for  its 
hospitality,  even  at  a  time  when  the  hunger  and  thirst 
of  Richmond  society  was  abnormal. 

Thus,  from  every  point  of  view,  whether  of  pride  in 
Tabb,  or  love  for  Emily,  or  the  hungry  hopes  and  trust  of 
society  in  the  gastronomic  abilities  of  the  old  folks,  all 
things  conspired  to  make  the  approaching  wedding  the 
social  event  of  the  season. 

The  scene  at  the  church  was  far  more  brilliant  than 
one  would  fancy  it  could  be  after  the  descriptions  given. 
Few  girls  with  any  social  pretensions  in  Richmond  had 
failed  to  wheedle  or  cajole  some  admiring  blockade-run- 
ning magnate  into  fetching  them  a  silk  or  ribbon  or 
feather  from  the  outside  world  for  this  occasion.  These 
blockade-runners  were  the  only  nabobs  in  the  place :  carry- 
ing their  fortunes,  their  liberty,  and  sometimes  their 
lives  in  their  hands,  they  alone  seemed  possessors  of  the 
secret  wherewith,  even  amidst  poverty  and  want,  to  con- 
jure up  wealth  and  luxury.  They  still  wore  broadcloth 
and  fine  linen,  drank  French  brandy,  and  smoked  black 


398  THE   END   OF  AN  ERA 

cigars.  To  them,  and  them  alone,  could  bride  and  brides- 
maids, matron  and  maid,  look  for  the  brave  toggery  so 
essential  upon  occasions  like  this ;  and  the  sea-dogs  had 
not  failed  their  fair  dependents. 

To  me,  the  Tabb-Rutherford  nuptials  was  an  event  of 
a  lifetime ;  it  had  been  years  since  I  had  seen  such  a 
gorgeous  function.  Nothing  like  it  had  been  possible  in 
Presbyterian  Lexington,  or  the  Petersburg  front,  or  in 
the  western  Virginia  mountains.  Not  only  was  it  to 
seal  the  happiness  of  two  dear  friends,  not  only  were  the 
brave  and  young  to  be  there,  but  it  was  to  be  a  notable 
assembling  of  the  great !     What  was  I  to  wear  ? 

I  had  a  pair  of  "  captured  "  trousers,  originally  destined 
for  a  private  in  the  Union  army,  now  converted  into  a 
Confederate  officer's  best  attire.  Pretty  fair  trousers  they 
were,  worn  with  a  long-tailed  coat,  but  unfit  for  use  with 
a  jacket.  My  boots,  which  cost  me  so  much  in  the  mak- 
ing, were  finished,  but  of  fair  leather ;  that  was  a  small 
matter:  lamp-black  and  oil  were  still  plentiful,  and,  after 
half  an  hour  of  hard  work,  they  shone  black  and  re- 
splendent. But  my  $2000  coat :  it  was  only  in  embryo. 
There  was  no  hope  of  its  being  finished  in  time.  What 
was  to  be  done  ?  Coats  were  coats  in  those  days,  and  not 
to  be  found  hanging  on  every  bush.  Vainly,  here  and 
there,  I  sought  for  the  wedding  garment.  Every  one 
whose  coat  might  fit  me  was  as  intent  as  myself  upon 
attending  that  entertainment. 

We  were  talking  it  over  at  the  mess,  when,  to  my  great 
relief,  Barksdale  Warwick,  one  of  my  father's  aids, 
took  me  aside  and  whispered  to  me  that  he  would  be  on 
duty  the  day  of  the  wedding,  and,  if  I  could  use  it,  I 
might  wear  his  new  coat.  Now  "  Barkey  "  was  a  first 
lieutenant  in  the  "  Canaries,"  as  we  called  the  staff,  while 
I  was  only  a  subaltern  in  the  "  Blues,"  as  they  dubbed 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE   END  399 

ie  infantry :  arrayed  in  his  coat  with  buff  trimmings, 
ith  infantry  stripes  on  my  trousers,  my  attire  would 
ideed  be  somewhat  incongruous.  President  Davis,  or 
ie  Secretary  of  War,  if  there,  might,  on  close  scrutiny, 
onder  what  branch  of  service  I  represented.  But  these 
ere  minor  considerations,  for  I  was  going  to  that  ball, 
ad  this  was  my  last  chance. 

The  real  question  was  not  one  of  style,  but  one  of  fit. 
iy,  there  was  the  rub!  for  Barksdale  Warwick  was 
ally  six  feet  high,  and  thin  as  a  riding-whip,  while  I  was 
hort,  and  plump  as  a  partridge.  But  I  gratefully  ac- 
epted  a  note  to  his  mother,  and,  on  the  day  of  the  wed- 
ing,  marched  proudly  to  my  lodgings  with  the  coveted 
rticle  under  my  arm. 

It  was  not  without  grave  misgivings  that  I  stepped 
orth  attired  for  the  wedding.  The  length  of  Barks- 
ale's  waist  was  such  that  the  bottom  buttons  of  that 
oat  somewhat  constrained  the  movement  of  my  hips ; 
he  coat-tails  nearly  reached  my  ankles;  as  for  the 
leeves,  I  was  fortunate  to  get  occasional  glances  at  my 
inger-tips.  The  whole  effect  was  to  give  me  the  appear- 
nce  of  a  giant  in  body,  a  dwarf  in  legs,  and  an  unfortu- 
late  who  had  lost  both  hands.  As  I  came  downstairs, 
[rawing  on  a  pair  of  new  white  thread-gloves,  a  married 
ister  nearly  paralyzed  me  by  a  well-intended  compliment 
ipon  my  "  nice  new  overcoat,"  and  my  witty  wag  of  a 
ister,  whose  escort  I  was,  shrieked  with  merriment  at  my 
■emarkable  attire. 

But  what  cared  I  ?  I  would  have  gone  in  a  meal-sack. 
Che  larger  the  coat,  the  better ;  it  gave  more  commodious 
>pportunity  to  fill  it  with  Mr.  Kutherford's  good  cheer, 
it  church,  the  judicious  handling  of  a  military  cape 
veiled  somewhat  this  extraordinary  outfit ;  but  when  the 
louse  was  reached,  no  subterfuges  longer  availed.     We 


400  THE  END   OF  AN  ERA 

stood  revealed  and  undisguised,  such  as  we  were.  If  m; 
appearance  was  extraordinary,  in  the  vernacular  of  tc 
day,  "  there  were  others."  The  men  had  misfits  of  man; 
makes ;  some  even  displayed  patches.  As  for  the  cos 
turaes  of  the  ladies,  they  were  wonderful  to  behold 
They  seemed  to  have  ransacked  every  old  trunk  in  th 
garrets  of  Richmond,  and  some  had  actually  utilized  th 
lace  and  damask  window-curtains  of  peace  times.  But 
jollier  and  happier  seeming  throng  was  never  assembled 

Tent-flies  inclosed  the  large  rear  veranda,  where  a  mili 
tary  band  was  stationed ;  holly  and  all  kinds  of  evergreei 
had  been  used  for  decoration.  The  bride  and  groom  re 
ceived  under  an  immense  wedding  bell  of  evergreens,  i 
token  of  love  for  their  colonel,  made  with  their  owi 
hands,  from  the  bushes  growing  about  them,  by  the  mei 
of  Tabb's  regiment.  Who  were  there  ?  Everybody  tha 
was  anybody. 

There  was  Mr.  President  Davis :  he  was  assuredly  ; 
very  clean-looking  man  ;  his  manners  were  those  of  a  dig 
nifiecl,  gracious  gentleman  accustomed  to  good  societj 
He  claimed  his  tribute  kiss  from  the  bride,  and  well  h 
might,  for  seldom  had  he  culled  one  more  sweet  or  pure 
From  the  blushing  girl  he  turned  with  a  gracious  compli 
ment  to  her  husband :  "  For  a  bribe  like  that,  colonel 
you  may  demand  a  week's  extension  of  your  leave.' 
Tabb,  with  his  hazel  eyes,  his  red-brown  hair  and  beard 
and  two  brilliant  hectic  spots  glowing  upon  his  cheeks 
towered  above  him,  smiling,  bowing,  and  supremel; 
happy.  Mr.  Davis  looked  thin  and  careworn.  Natu 
rally  refined  in  his  appearance,  his  hair  and  beard  wer* 
bleaching  rapidly ;  and  his  bloodless  cheeks  and  slende 
nose,  with  its  clear-cut,  flat  nostril,  gave  him  almost  th< 
appearance  of  emaciation.  Yet  his  eye  was  bright,  hi 
smile  was  winning,  and  manner  most  attractive.     Whei 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END  401 

he  chose  to  be  deferential  and  kindly,  no  man  could  excel 
him.  When  strongly  moved,  few  men  of  his  day  sur- 
passed him  in  eloquence.  On  occasion,  he  could  touch 
the  popular  heart  with  a  master  hand.  On  his  arm  was 
Mrs.  Davis,  his  very  opposite  in  physique,  looking  as  if, 
to  use  an  old  expression,  "  the  gray  mare  was  the  better 
horse."  Physically,  she  was  large  and  looked  well  fed. 
Among  us  "  irreverents,"  it  was  believed  that  Mrs.  Davis 
possessed  great  influence  over  her  husband,  even  to  the 
point  that  she  could  secure  promotion  for  us,  if  she  liked. 
She  was  intensely  loyal  to  him,  took  no  pains  to  conceal 
her  pride  in  him,  and  was,  perhaps,  a  trifle  quick  to 
show  resentment  towards  those  not  as  enthusiastic  as  she 
thought  they  should  be  in  their  estimate  of  his  abilities. 
She  had,  among  those  who  knew  her  best,  warm,  enthusi- 
astic friends. 

Close  upon  these  came  young  Burton  Harrison,  the 
President's  private  secretary,  looking  like  a  fashion-plate 
in  his  perfect  outfit.  Harrison  was  popular,  and  every- 
body had  some  cordial  inquiry  as  to  how  he  maintained 
such  an  immaculate  wardrobe,  when  all  the  world  besides 
was  in  rags.  Speaking  a  gracious  word  here  and  there 
as  he  passed  on,  he  soon  joined  willowy  Connie  Cary  for 
a  waltz. 

When  Breckinridge,  Secretary  of  War,  strode  up,  he 
brought  the  perfume  of  Kentucky  Bourbon  with  him.  As 
he  and  Tabb  stood  side  by  side,  one  thought  of  the  wide- 
spreading  forest  oak  topping  up  beside  the  slender  pine. 
There  was  the  frankness  of  the  soldier,  the  breadth  of 
the  statesman,  the  heartiness  and  courteey  to  woman,  of 
the  Southern  man  of  the  world,  in  his  every  look  and 
word. 

The  oleaginous  Benjamin,  Secretary  of  State,  next 
glided  in,  his  keg-like  form  and  over-deferential  manner 


402  THE   END   OF  AN  ERA 

suggestive  of  a  prosperous  shopkeeper.  But  his  eye 
redeemed  him,  and  his  speech  was  elegantly  polished, 
even  if  his  nose  was  hooked  and  his  thick  lips  shone  red 
amidst  the  curly  black  of  his  Semitic  beard.  Tabb, 
looking  down  upon  him,  suggested  a  high-bred  grey- 
hound condescending  towards  a  very  clever  pug. 

Then  bluff  old  Secretary  Mallory  of  the  Navy  came,  — 
with  no  studied  speech,  but  manly,  frank,  and  kind,  —  one 
of  the  most  popular  members  of  the  Confederate  Cabinet. 
After  him,  Postmaster-General  Regan,  of  Texas,  a  large, 
plain-looking  citizen,  of  more  than  ordinary  common 
sense,  but  ill  at  ease  in  gatherings  like  this,  and  looking 
as  if  he  might  have  left  his  carry-log  and  yoke  of  oxen  at 
the  door. 

And  so  it  went.  There  was  Olivero  Andrews,  the  most 
insinuating  beau  of  the  capital ;  and  Cooper  de  Leon,  the 
poet,  wit,  and  wag ;  and  John  M.  Daniel,  the  vitriolic 
editor  of  the  "  Examiner,"  whose  mission  seemed  to  be 
to  torture  the  administration  with  the  criticism  of  his 
scathing  pen  ;  and  Willie  Myers,  soldier,  dandy,  dilet- 
tante artist,  and  exquisite ;  and  the  pompous  fellow,  blaz- 
ing with  gilt,  and  bearded  like  a  pard,  derisively  called 
"  the  Count,'  who  was  best  known  for  his  constant  ab- 
sence from  the  front  without  leave  when  his  command  was 
engaged ;  and  Baron  Heros  von  Boerck,  a  giant  German, 
who  had  come  to  fight  as  a  volunteer  upon  Jeb  Stuart's 
staff.  O  Vanity  Fair  of  the  dead  Confederacy!  How 
your  actors  troop  before  me  once  again  ! 

"  Who  is  the  red-headed  fellow  with  the  voice  like  a 
foghorn?"  I  asked  of  a  companion,  as  I  pointed  to  a 
young  subaltern  standing  in  a  group  of  men  and  women, 
who  were  convulsed  at  some  extravagant  story  he  was 
telling. 

"  Tom   Ochiltree,  of  course,"   said  she.     "  He  is  the 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END  403 

young  Texan  who  distinguished  himself  at  the  battle  of 
Valverde,  and  afterwards  as  volunteer  aid  to  Longstreet 
in  the  seven  days'  fighting.  He  is  the  most  unique  char- 
acter in  Richmond,  and  is  counted  one  of  the  bravest 
fellows  and  truest  friends,  and  at  the  same  time  one  of 
the  drollest  raconteurs,  in  all  the  world."  A  fresh  peal 
of  merriment  from  the  throng  about  him  almost  drowned 
her  last  words. 

"  And  who  is  the  classic-looking  young  fellow  near  him, 
with  the  scars  upon  his  face  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  That  is  Clarence  Prentice,"  she  said  ;  "  the  oddest 
fish  in  all  the  Confederacy.  The  scars  you  see  are  sou- 
venirs of  Heidelberg,  not  wounds  received  in  battle, 
although  he  has  been  in  many  fights.  He  looks  like  a 
poet  or  musician,  but  that  man  is  everything :  he  plays 
divinely,  speaks  many  tongues,  is  an  exquisite  dancer, 
sings  like  an  angel,  gets  drunk,  kills  men,  gambles,  and 
is  altogether  startling.  According  to  the  mood  in  which 
you  find  him,  he  is  a  gentleman  or  ruffian,  athlete,  all- 
round  sportsman,  exquisite,  desperado,  or  eccentric." 

"  And  who  are  the  ladies  of  the  coterie  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  "  that  is  what  we  call  the  White 
House  set.  The  two  large  girls  in  white  are  the  Misses 
Howell,  sisters  of  Mrs.  Davis.  The  handsome  blonde  is 
the  daughter  of  Senator  Wigfall,  of  Texas  ;  the  striking 
girl  in  pink  is  Miss  Campbell,  daughter  of  the  Confed- 
erate Chief  Justice,  Judge  Campbell,  of  New  Orleans." 

"  And  who  is  this  Burmese  elephant  ?  "  I  asked,  as  men 
and  women  fell  back  before  a  great  waddling  mass  of  obe- 
sity, who,  in  gray  clothes  and  not  over-neat  linen,  came 
elbowing  his  way  into  the  room,  puffing  like  a  porpoise. 

"  That,"  said  she,  "  is  General  Humphrey  Marshall,  of 
Kentucky.  They  say  he  was  a  brave  general,  and  is  a 
shrewd  and  brilliant  politician ;  in  fact,  almost  a  statesman. 


404  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

He  is  at  present  in  the  Confederate  Congress.  His  chief 
prominence  now  is  as  the  most  inveterate  gambler  and 
hon-vivant  in  Richmond.  He  is  the  man  who  stakes 
thousands  on  the  turn  of  a  card,  and,  while  waiting, 
lights  his  $10  cigars  with  $5  Confederate  bills." 

In  this  grand  rush  of  humanity  there  was  more  than 
life  enough,  and  enough  that  was  startling  ;  but  how  in 
contrast  with  the  gentle,  elevating  refinement  of  bygone 
days  !  The  grosser  breath  of  war  had  penetrated  even  to 
the  innermost  circle  of  society,  and  given  it  a  heat  and 
noise  and  indiscriminateness  which,  to  speak  mildly,  was 
new,  and  by  no  means  an  improvement  upon  old  manners 
and  old  customs. 

As  I  saw  them,  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  men  intrusted 
with  the  civic  administration  of  the  Confederate  govern- 
ment were  not  of  as  fine  clay  as  her  immortal  soldiers, 
nor  was  it,  I  believe,  a  mere  boyish  fancy.  Time  has 
deepened  the  impression. 

The  crush  was  becoming  less  dense.  The  older  folk 
remained  but  a  little  while.  The  numbers  of  the  guests 
necessitated  providing  refreshments  for  the  most  distin- 
guished and  the  elderly  people  first,  and  for  the  young 
folk  a  little  later. 

The  President  and  his  cabinet  had  disappeared.  The 
stars  of  the  generals  went  one  by  one  into  eclipse  behind 
the  doors  of  the  banquet-halls.  Even  colonels  were  rare. 
Majors,  captains,  and  lieutenants  were  of  the  grades 
whence  drafts  were  made  for  dancers,  and  here  and 
there  might  even  be  seen  a  saucy  private ;  for,  in  our 
army,  many  a  private  soldier  was  socially  the  peer  of  any- 
body. 

A  band  of  musicians  with  stringed  instruments  filed 
into  the  drawing-rooms  when  they  were  sufficiently  cleared 
of  the  crowd  to  admit  of  dancing.     Taking  their  position 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END  405 

in  a  corner,  the  tuning  and  preliminary  flourishes  began, 
and  people  sought  their  partners  for  the  cotillion. 

Until  now,  I  had  felt  abashed  by  the  presence  of  distin- 
guished people  and  superior  officers  ;  but  when  it  came 
to  dancing,  I  considered  that  I  was  in  my  proper  element. 
Recollections  of  cadet  triumphs  were  still  fresh.  So  forth 
I  sallied  for  a  partner.  Meanwhile,  a  dreamy  waltz 
floated  through  the  rooms,  and  the  "  White  House  set  " 
led  off.  Most  striking  among  them  was  that  Porthos 
Von  Boerck  dancing  with  one  of  the  lovely  Carys.  But 
more  striking  still  were  the  remarkable  sounds  which  he 
emitted  when  the  dance  was  finished.  Von  Boerck,  while 
riding  with  Stuart,  had  been  shot  through  the  windpipe. 
The  injury  caused  him,  when  breathing  hard,  to  utter  a 
sound  like  that  made  by  a  "roaring  horse."  After  the  vio- 
lent exercise  of  waltzing,  in  defiance  of  instructions  from 
his  surgeon,  the  great  rosy  fellow  stood  leaning  against  a 
pillar,  fanning  his  flushed  face,  and  emitting  this  remark- 
able noise.  His  fair  companion  was  at  first  alarmed. 
When  assured  that  it  was  not  dangerous,  and  would  cease 
in  a  few  moments,  her  sense  of  the  ludicrous  overcame 
both  her  fear  and  her  sympathy,  and  she  called  to  her 
companions  to  "  come  and  hear  Von  Boerck  whistle."  Poor 
Von  Boerck !  That  most  amiable  and  brave  fellow  —  a 
universal  favorite  for  both  qualities  among  the  girls  — 
was  nearly  overcome  by  this  ridiculous  exposure.  As  the 
laughing  maidens  congregated  about  him,  he  grew  red, 
and  protested,  in  his  awkward  German  way :  "  Oh-h ! 
Whew-w!  — I  beg  you — whew-w! — spare  me — whew-w!" 
But  they  did  not  spare  him,  and  clapped  their  little 
hands  with  merriment.  At  last,  roaring,  and  enjoying  his 
own  discomfiture  as  much  as  anybody,  he  burst  through 
their  ranks,  and  fled  to  the  cool  veranda  to  recover  his 
composure  and  allow  his  whistle  to  subside. 


406  THE   END   OF   AN  ERA 

My  efforts  to  secure  a  partner  were  futile  in  several 
directions.  Nearly  all  the  girls  had  escorts.  Severa' 
looked  askance  and  declined,  in  a  way  which  made  me 
doubt  whether  my  costume  was  altogether  a  success.  Jusl 
as  I  was  growing  despondent,  our  gracious  hostess  ap 
proached  and  said,  "  Come  with  me.  I  have  a  charming 
partner  for  you."  Then,  threading  our  way  to  a  corner,  J 
was  presented.  Charming  the  young  lady  was,  beyond 
question ;  and  desirable,  no  doubt,  in  many  ways ;  but 
candor  compels  the  admission  that  she  was  older  thar 
myself,  and  not  beautiful.  And  her  dress?  Oh,  thai 
costume  !     Shall  I  ever  forget  it  ? 

Experience  had  not  taught  me  then  how  dangerous  s 
thing  it  is  to  permit  a  hostess,  when  the  music  has  struct 
up  and  the  sets  are  actually  forming,  to  seize  one  and 
drag  him  to  a  "  charming  "  girl.  A  year  in  society,  nay 
a  month,  teaches  us  that  "  charming "  girls  of  that  de 
scription  have  some  inherent  disqualification ;  for  the 
young  and  pretty  never  have  to  invoke  the  aid  of  the 
hostess  at  so  late  an  hour. 

There  she  was,  however,  and  it  was  too  late  to  recede 
even  if  I  had  wished  to  do  so.  I  did  not  wish  to  recede 
Why  should  I  ?  She  was  gracious,  refined,  and  not  £ 
whit  more  anxious  for  a  partner  than  I  was  myself.  Oh 
yes,  our  families  were  intimate.  Yes,  I  was  aware  thai 
she  knew  my  sisters.  I  did  not  mention  that  I  knew  she 
was  schoolmate  of  an  elder  sister,  now  married.  We 
were  out  for  pleasant,  not  for  unpleasant,  speeches.  Thus 
we  chatted  as  we  stood  waiting  in  our  places  in  the 
quadrille. 

I  could  not  help  observing  her  costume.  Indeed,  she 
herself  told  me  that  the  dress  was  her  grandmother's 
worn  when  La  Fayette  came  to  Richmond  in  1824.  She 
had  discovered  it  in  an  old  trunk.     I  think  I  never  sa\< 


THE   BEGINNING   OF  THE  END  407 

anything,  either  before  or  afterwards,  exactly  like  it.  I 
cannot,  for  lack  of  technical  knowledge,  correctly  describe 
female  attire,  but  from  such  vague  efforts  as  I  make, 
those  versed  in  costuming  may  gain  some  idea  concern- 
ing it. 

First  of  all,  the  lady,  viewed  laterally,  was  the  flattest 
lady  I  ever  beheld.  Viewed  from  front  or  rear,  she  was 
unusually  wide.  The  laced  bodice  was  cut  with  becoming 
modesty  about  the  neck,  but  that  same  bodice  ran  down- 
ward to  a  point,  until  I  thought  it  would  never  stop.  I 
think  that,  in  the  vernacular  of  the  times  of  its  construc- 
tion, it  was  called  a  stomacher.  Viewed  from  rear,  never 
another  back  was  so  long,  unless  it  was  my  own  in  Barks- 
dale  Warwick's  coat.  At  the  hips,  the  dress  rose  up  in 
fluffs.  In  coloring  and  texture,  it  resembled  certain  flow- 
ered goods  I  have  since  seen  used  in  upholstering  parlor 
furniture.  The  head-gear  accompanying  it  was  indescrib- 
able. Maybe  it  was  Pompadour.  There  were  ostrich- 
feathers  with  it.  I  think  she  said  she  wore  prunella  slip- 
pers. Possibly  it  was  some  other  kind.  All  this  I  saw 
and  learned  as  we  were  waiting  for  the  music  to  strike  up. 
More  I  saw,  and  I  heartily  wish  I  had  not,  for  it  cost  me 
a  newly  formed  and  valued  friendship.  As  we  stood  there 
waiting,  two  mischievous  girls  —  one  a  blonde,  the  other  a 
brunette,  the  brightest  pair  of  wags  and  wits  in  Richmond 
—  were  leaning  over  a  large  sofa  at  the  further  end  of 
the  room.  They  had  preferred  not  to  dance.  There 
they  stood  watching,  laughing,  giggling,  observing  every- 
thing that  was  grotesque,  and  making  comments  which 
were  simply  convulsing  to  all  hearers.  They  were  my 
choicest  intimates.  At  an  unlucky  moment,  I  caught 
their  wicked  eyes.  They  were  carefully  dissecting  the 
appearance  of  my  partner  and  myself.  Knowing  what 
was  coming,  with  a  pleasant  reprobatory  smile  I  pleaded 


408  THE  END   OF  AN   ERA 

with  my  eyes  that  they  should  not  laugh  at  us,  as  if  to 
say,  "  I  don't  mind  it  for  myself,  but  the  lady  is  a  compar 
^/ative  stranger,  and  you  must  not  embarrass  her." 

I  might  as  well  have  tried  to  check  the  incoming  tide 
They  had  seen  us.  They  were  watching  us,  wild  witl 
merriment.  They  were  pointing  at  us.  They  were  at 
tracting  the  attention  of  others  to  us.  I  saw  it.  I  knev» 
intuitively  the  inimitably  funny  things  they  were  saying, 
Their  mirth  was  infectious,  and  I  was  scarce  able  to  give 
heed  to  the  polite  speeches  my  companion  was  making,  01 
to  suppress  the  rebellious  twitchings  of  my  mouth.  But 
I  did  not  quite  realize  how  absurd  our  appearance  really 
was.  Thus  charged  with  merriment,  I  bowed,  as  the 
music  sounded  for  the  dance. 

A  scream  behind  us  nearly  threw  me  off  my  balance. 
My  partner,  all  unconscious  of  the  by-play,  was  serene 
and  gracious.  On  the  opposite  wall  hung  an  old-fashioned 
mirror,  slightly  convex,  ornamented  with  a  spread-eagle 
over  its  top.  It  shone  like  burnished  steel,  but  it  was  so 
tilted  against  the  wall  that  one  could  only  see  one's  self 
when  near  the  middle  of  the  room.  "  Balance  to  the 
centre."  We  were  doing  famously.  Holding  her  tiny 
hand,  we  balanced  forth.  She  was  speaking  low,  and  was 
saying  something  very  captivating.  I  had  regained  con- 
trol of  my  risibles.  Oh  !  why  did  I  look  up  ?  Why  did 
I  catch,  in  that  old  mirror,  the  full  reflections  of  our- 
selves ?  The  effect  was  irresistible.  I  gave  one  fatal 
snort,  —  that  snort  which  is  so  deadly  to  all  check  of 
mirth  when  we  are  striving  hardest  to  control  ourselves. 
I  was  hopelessly  gone.  I  clapped  both  hands  to  my  face, 
and  laughed  and  laughed  until  the  tears  ran  down  my 
cheeks. 

Wonder,  perplexity,  wrath,  in  turn  came  over  the  face 
of  my  partner.     She  could  not  understand.     I  could  not 


THE   BEGINNING  OF  THE   END  409 

explain.  We  finished  the  figure  in  silence.  At  its  con- 
clusion, she  asked  that  I  take  her  to  some  friends.  She 
bowed  frigidly  to  me,  as  if  to  say,  "  Go  ! "  and  go  I  went. 
She  never  again  so  much  as  nodded  her  head  to  me.  I 
rushed  back  to  my  tormentors  to  reproach  them.  They 
called  me  "  Wheelbench,"  and  laughed  anew.  It  was  the 
name  of  a  certain  breed  of  little  vagabond  dogs  noted  for 
their  long  bodies  and  short  legs.  My  rage  only  added 
fuel  to  the  flames  of  their  ridicule.  Never  did  such  an 
attired  pair  dance  together,  I  ween.  Never  were  there 
such  hilarious  spectators. 

A  Cruikshank,  a  Nast,  a  Davenport  might  have  sup- 
plied himself  for  life  with  caricatures  at  that  memorable 
gathering.     For  myself,  I  danced  no  more  that  night. 

About  midnight,  a  new  and  distinct  coterie  of  guests 
arrived. 

They  were  a  party  of  bon-vivant  friends  of  the  host. 
By  one  means  or  another,  this  band  secured  the  best  to 
be  had.  To  this  feast  of  their  companion,  each  and  all 
had  made  their  contribution.  And  now  they  had  come  to 
join  him  in  celebrating  the  happy  event  of  his  daughter's 
marriage,  and  to  partake  of  his  good  cheer. 

There  was  big  John  Carvell,  the  Canadian  blockade- 
runner,  who  had  sent  a  few  bottles  of  champagne,  —  a 
luxury  then  almost  beyond  price ;  and  Major  Robert  Ould, 
the  Confederate  Commissioner  of  Exchange  of  Prisoners, 
who  never  failed  to  secure  for  himself,  on  his  trip  down 
the  river  to  meet  the  Union  Commissioners  of  Exchange, 
an  ample  supply  of  the  best  food  and  drink  ;  and  Major 
"  Buck "  Allen,  of  Claremont,  whose  cellars  were  still 
unexhausted  ;  and  young  Hatch,  of  Missouri,  Assistant 
Commissioner  of  Exchange  ;  and  Major  Legh  Page,  and 
Major  Isaac  Carrington,  of  the  Subsistence  Department. 

There  was  an  air  of  business  about  these  men.     They 


410  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

had  come  for  good  cheer.  What  of  creature  comforts 
they  did  not  secure  was  simply  not  to  be  had.  What  this 
party  enjoyed  in  their  private  room,  what  cigars  they 
smoked,  what  games  they  played  with  their  host,  how 
long  they  stayed,  is  beyond  my  ken.  All  that  we  lesser 
lights  knew  was  that  they  had  the  reputation  of  being  the 
only  habitually  well-fed  and  luxurious  citizens  of  Rich- 
mond. 

Supper  for  the  general  public  was  announced  in  due 
time,  and,  doubt  it  as  you  may,  it  was  a  sumptuous 
repast. 

There  were  no  sweets  and  ices,  such  as  are  seen  in  pip- 
ing times  of  peace.  But  there  was  ornamentation !  The 
pyramids,  built  of  little  balls  of  butter,  were  really  pretty. 
They  towered  like  the  spun  sugar,  and  nougat,  or  divided 
oranges,  we  see  to-day.  And  great  piles  of  rosy  apples 
gave  color  to  the  feast.  Terrapin,  canvas-back  ducks, 
pates,  and  the  like  were  missing.  Our  friends,  the  enemy, 
had  even  cut  us  off  from  oysters.  But  there  were  tur- 
keys and  hams  and  delicious  breads,  and  most  beautifully 
stuffed  eggs,  and  great  piles  of  smoking  sausages,  and 
dishes  of  unsurpassed  domestic  pickles.  There  were  no 
oils  for  salads,  no  sugar  for  preserves.  Some  one  had 
given  the  bride  a  wedding  present  of  coffee,  and  the  rooms 
were  filled  with  its  delightful  aroma.  This  we  drank 
sugarless,  with  great  gusto.  Great  bowls  of  apple  toddy, 
hot  and  cold,  filled  with  roasted  pippins,  stood  on  the 
tables,  and  furnished  all  needful  warmth  and  cheerfulness 
for  any  wedding  feast. 

So  you  see,  dear  readers,  that,  even  to  the  last,  there 
were  times  and  places  in  the  Confederacy  where  we  got 
together  and  did  like  other  and  more  prosperous  folk,  — 
"  Eat,  drink,  and  be  merry,  for  to-morrow  you  die." 

In  the  gray  of  a  winter  morning,  the  cold  bright  stars 


THE   BEGINNING  OF   THE  END  411 

twinkling  above  us,  we  men  and  women  sought  our  homes 
afoot.  Vehicles  and  horses  were  not  to  be  had  for  love  or 
money.  Gathering  their  dainty  skirts  about  them,  matron 
and  maid,  who  in  other  days  had  never  walked  three 
blocks  away  from  home,  picked  their  way  through  the 
deserted  streets,  laughing  over  the  delightful  scenes  they 
had  left  behind.  They  laid  their  heads  upon  their  pillows 
that  night,  happy,  not  discontented,  because  of  the  sacri- 
fices they  had  made  for  a  cause  we  all  loved. 

"  Eat,  drink,  and  be  merry,  for  to-morrow  ye  die."  Let 
us  not  inquire  how  many  of  the  gallant  souls  who  laughed 
and  danced  and  ate  and  drank  that  night  fulfilled  the 
whole  prophecy  in  the  whirlwind  of  war  which  swept  from 
Richmond  to  Petersburg,  from  Petersburg  to  Appomat- 
tox, in  the  next  three  months.  The  story  is  sad  enough 
without  such  details. 

"  Eat,  drink,  and  be  merry,  for  to-morrow  ye  die." 
Within  five  years  from  that  joyous  night,  the  blooming 
bride  was  laid  to  rest  in  her  Confederate  wedding-gown. 
Within  a  decade,  her  parents,  host  and  hostess  of  that 
night,  slept  side  by  side  in  the  cemetery  at  Hollywood  ; 
and  the  soldier-groom,  spared  by  the  bolts  of  war,  but 
undermined  in  health  by  the  exposure  of  the  camp,  lost  a 
sweet  life  for  a  cause  which  was  already  lost. 

The  places  which  knew  them  know  them  no  more. 
Their  names  are  almost  forgotten  now,  under  the  rule  of 
another  king  that  knew  not  Joseph. 

So  wags  the  world  away. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE   END   IN   SIGHT 

At  the  time  of  the  evacuation  of  Richmond,  in  1865,  I 
had  been  in  the  Confederate  army  for  about  ten  months, 
had  reached  the  mature  age  of  eighteen,  and  had  attained 
the  rank  of  lieutenant.  I  was  for  the  time  at  Clover  Sta- 
tion, on  the  Richmond  and  Danville  Railroad,  south  of  the 
fallen  capital.  A  light  glimmered  in  headquarters  and  at 
the  telegraph  station.  Suspecting  that  news  of  importance 
had  been  received,  and  knowing  the  telegraph  operator 
well,  I  repaired  to  his  office.  He  was  sitting  at  his  instru- 
ment, closely  attentive  to  its  busy  clicking. 

"  Any  news,  Tom  ?  "  inquired  I. 

Holding  up  his  hand  he  said,  "  Yes  !  hush  !  "  and  con- 
tinued to  listen.  Then,  seizing  his  pad  and  pencil,  he 
wrote  rapidly.  Again  the  clicking  of  the  instrument 
began,  and  he  resumed  his  a:/  de  of  intent  listening. 
He  was  catching  messages  passing  over  the  lines  to  Dan- 
ville. During  a  lull,  he  informed  me  that  heavy  fighting 
on  the  right  of  the  army  at  Five  Forks  had  been  going 
on  all  day,  in  which  the  slaughter  on  both  sides  had  been 
very  great,  and  that  there  were  reports  of  the  evacua- 
tion of  Petersburg.  Repairing  to  the  quarters  of  General 
Walker,  I  found  that  he  had  substantially  the  same  ad- 
vices. Vainly  and  despondently  we  waited  until  late  at 
night  for  more  particulars. 

Sunday  morning  broke  clear  and  calm.  It  was  one  of 
the  first  of  those  heavenly  spring  days  which  to  me  seem 


THE   END   IN   SIGHT  413 

brighter  in  Virginia  than  elsewhere.  Sitting  in  a  sunny- 
spot  near  the  telegraph  station,  a  party  of  staff  officers 
waited  for  telegrams  until  nearly  eleven  o'clock.  Then 
a  storm  of  news  broke  upon  us,  every  word  of  which  was 
freighted  with  deep  import  to  our  cause. 

Click  —  click  —  click.  "  Our  lines  in  front  of  Peters- 
burg were  broken  this  morning.  General  Lee  is  retiring 
from  the  city." 

Click  —  click  —  click.  "  General  A.  P.  Hill  was 
killed." 

Click  —  click  —  click.  "  Colonel  William  Pegram  of 
the  artillery  also  killed." 

Click  —  click  —  click.  "  In  the  battle  of  Five  Forks, 
which  continued  until  long  after  dark  last  night,  Pickett 
was  overwhelmed  by  Sheridan  with  a  greatly  superior 
force  of  cavalry  and  infantry,  and  the  enemy  is  now 
endeavoring  to  turn  our  right,  which  is  retiring  toward 
the  Appomattox,  to  make  a  stand  there." 

Click  —  click  —  click.  "  Petersburg  is  evacuated.  Our 
army  in  full  retreat  toward  Burkeville." 

Click  —  click  —  click.  "  General  Lee  has  notified  the 
President  that  he  can  no  longer  hold  Richmond,  and 
orders  have  been  issued  for  the  immediate  evacuation  of 
the  city.  The  town  is  the  scene  of  the  utmost  turmoil 
and  confusion." 

General  Walker  issued  the  necessary  commands  to 
place  our  own  house  in  order.  There  was  not  much  to 
be  done.  Such  government  stores  and  provisions  as  were 
at  our  post  were  promptly  put  on  freight  cars,  and  every 
preparation  was  made  for  an  orderly  departure,  if  neces- 
sary. We  expected  that  Lee  would  make  a  stand  at  or 
near  Burkeville,  forty  miles  distant,  and  that,  if  he  must, 
he  would  retreat  along  the  line  of  the  Richmond  and  Dan- 
ville Railroad.     From  the  accounts  of  the  fighting,  I  felt 


414  THE  END   OF  AN   ERA 

sure  that  my  father's  command  was  in  the  thick  of  it;  and 
this  fear  gave  an  added  trouble  to  the  gloomy  reflections 
of  those  sad  hours. 

When  we  recall  the  way  in  which  the  most  startling 
events  in  our  lives  have  happened,  we  note  how  differently 
they  unfolded  themselves  from  our  previous  thought  of 
them.  Nay,  more  :  we  all  recall  that  when  great  events, 
which  we  had  anticipated  as  possible  or  probable,  have 
actually  begun  to  occur,  we  have  failed  to  recognize  them. 
So  it  was  now  with  me.  That  the  war  might  end  dis- 
astrously to  the  Confederacy,  I  had  long  regarded  as  a 
possibility ;  that  our  army  was  sadly  depleted  and  in 
great  want,  I  knew ;  but  that  it  was  literally  worn  out 
and  killed  out  and  starved  out,  I  did  not  realize.  The 
idea  that  within  a  week  it  would  stack  arms  at  Appomat- 
tox, surrender,  and  be  disbanded  did  not  enter  into  my 
mind  even  then.  I  still  thought  that  it  would  retreat, 
and,  abandoning  Richmond,  fall  back  to  some  new  posi- 
tion, where  it  would  fight  many  other  battles  before  the 
issue  was  decided. 

A  few  hours  later,  train  after  train,  all  loaded  to  their 
utmost  capacity  with  whatever  could  be  transported  from 
the  doomed  capital,  came  puffing  past  Clover  Station  on 
the  way  southward.  These  trains  bore  many  men  who,  in 
the  excitement,  were  unwilling  to  admit  that  all  was  lost. 
They  frankly  deplored  the  necessity  of  giving  up  the  Con- 
federate capital,  but  insisted  that  the  army  was  not  beaten 
or  demoralized,  and  was  retreating  in  good  order.  They 
argued  that  Lee,  relieved  of  the  burden  of  defending  his 
long  lines  from  Richmond  to  Petersburg,  and  of  the  hard 
task  of  maintaining  his  communications,  would  draw  Grant 
away  from  his  base  of  supplies,  and  might  now,  with  that 
generalship  of  which  we  all  knew  him  to  be  master,  be 
free  to  administer  a  stunning  if  not  a  crushing  blow  to 


THE  END   IN  SIGHT  415 

rrant  in  the  open,  where  strategy  might  overcome  force, 
'hese  arguments  cheered  and  revived  me.  I  hoped  it 
light  so  turn  out.  I  dared  not  ask  myself  if  I  believed 
lat  it  would. 

Monday  morning,  April  3,  a  train  passed  Clover  bear- 
lg  the  President,  his  Cabinet  and  chief  advisers,  to  Dan- 
ille.  They  had  left  Richmond  after  the  midnight  of  that 
ist  Sunday  when  Mr.  Davis  was  notified,  while  attending 
t.  Paul's  Church,  that  the  immediate  evacuation  of  the 
ity  was  unavoidable.  Mr.  Davis  sat  at  a  car  window, 
'he  crowd  at  the  station  cheered.  He  smiled  and  acknow- 
idged  their  compliment,  but  his  expression  showed  phy- 
ical  and  mental  exhaustion.  Near  him  sat  General  Bragg, 
rhose  shaggy  eyebrows  and  piercing  eyes  made  him  look 
ke  a  much  greater  man  than  he  ever  proved  himself  to 
e.  In  this  car  was  my  brother-in-law,  Dr.  Garnett,  fam- 
y  physician  to  Mr.  Davis.     I  entered,  and  sat  with  him 

few  minutes,  to  learn  what  I  could  about  the  home  folk, 
lis  own  family  had  been  left  at  his  Richmond  residence, 
d  the  mercy  of  the  conqueror.  The  presidential  train 
'as  followed  by  many  others.  One  bore  the  archives  and 
mployees  of  the  Treasury  Department,  another  those  of 
lie  Post  Office  Department,  another  those  of  the  War 
)epartment.  I  knew  many  in  all  these  departments,  and 
bey  told  me  the  startling  incidents  of  their  sudden  flight. 

I  saw  a  government  on  wheels.  It  was  the  marvelous 
nd  incongruous  debris  of  the  wreck  of  the  Confederate 
apital.  There  were  very  few  women  on  these  trains,  but 
mong  the  last  in  the  long  procession  were  trains  bearing 
adiscriminate  cargoes  of  men  and  things.    In  one  car  was 

cage  with  an  African  parrot,  and  a  box  of  tame  squir- 
els,  and  a  hunchback!  Everybody,  not  excepting  the 
•arrot,  was  wrought  up  to  a  pitch  of  intense  excitement. 
?he  last  arrivals  brought  the  sad  news  that  Richmond 


416  THE   END   OF  AN  ERA 

was  in  flames.  Our  departing  troops  had  set  fire  to  t 
tobacco  warehouses.  The  heat,  as  it  reached  the  hoc 
heads,  caused  the  tobacco  leaves  to  expand  and  burst  th( 
fastenings,  and  the  wind,  catching  up  the  burning  tobacc 
spread  it  in  a  shower  of  fire  upon  the  doomed  city. 
was  after  dark  on  Monday  when  the  last  train  from  Ric 
mond  passed  Clover  Station  bound  southward.  We  we 
now  the  northern  outpost  of  the  Confederacy.  Nothii 
was  between  us  and  the  enemy  except  Lee's  army,  whi< 
was  retreating  toward  us, — if  indeed  it  were  comii 
in  this  direction.  All  day  Tuesday,  and  until  midd; 
Wednesday,  we  waited,  expecting  to  hear  of  the  arriv 
of  our  army  at  Burkeville,  or  some  tidings  of  its  wher 
abouts.  But  the  railroad  stretching  northward  was 
silent  as  the  grave.  The  cessation  of  all  traffic  gave  01 
place  a  Sabbath  stillness.  Until  now,  there  had  been  tl 
constant  rumble  of  trains  on  this  main  line  of  supplies 
the  army.  After  the  intense  excitement  of  Monday,  wh( 
the  whole  Confederate  government  came  rushing  past  i 
intervals  of  a  few  minutes,  the  unbroken  silence  remind* 
one  of  death  after  violent  convulsions. 

We  still  maintained  telegraphic  communication  wil 
Burkeville,  but  we  could  get  no  definite  information  co: 
cerning  the  whereabouts  of  Lee.  Telegrams  receive 
Tuesday  informed  us  he  was  near  Amelia  Court  Hous 
Wednesday  morning  we  tried  in  vain  to  call  up  Amel: 
Court  House.  A  little  later,  Burkeville  reported  the  wir< 
cut  at  Jetersville,  ten  miles  to  the  north,  between  Burk 
ville  and  Amelia  Court  House.  When  General  Walk( 
heard  this,  he  quietly  remarked,  "  They  are  pressing  hii 
off  the  line  of  this  road,  and  forcing  him  to  retreat  by  tl 
Southside  Eoad  to  Lynchburg."  I  knew  the  topograph 
of  the  country  well  enough  to  realize  that  if  the  arm 
passed  Burkeville  Junction,  moving  westward,  our  pos 


THE  END   IN   SIGHT  417 

ion  would  be  on  the  left  flank  and  rear  of  the  Union 
irmy,  and  that  we  must  retire  or  be  captured.  Many 
nessages  came  from  Mr.  Davis  at  Danville,  inquiring  for 
lews  from  General  Lee.  Shortly  after  General  Walker 
•eported  that  the  wires  were  cut  at  Jetersville,  another 
nessagre  came  from  Mr.  Davis.  He  asked  if  General 
ITalker  had  a  trusted  man  or  officer  who,  if  supplied  with 
in  engine,  would  venture  down  the  road  toward  Burke- 
/ille,  endeavor  to  communicate  with  General  Lee,  ascer- 
;ain  from  him  his  situation  and  future  plans,  and  report 
;o  the  President.  I  was  present  when  this  telegram 
irrived.  By  good  luck,  other  and  older  officers  were  ab- 
sent. The  suspense  and  inactivity  of  the  past  three  days 
lad  been  unendurable,  and  I  volunteered  gladly  for  the 
service.  At  first,  General  Walker  said  that  I  was  too 
foung ;  but  after  considering  the  matter,  he  ordered  me 
to  hold  myself  in  readiness,  and  notified  Mr.  Davis  that 
tie  had  the  man  he  wanted,  and  requested  him  to  send 
the  engine.  The  engine,  with  tender  and  a  baggage  car, 
arrived  about  eight  p.  m. 

General  Walker  summoned  me  to  headquarters,  and 
»ave  me  my  final  instructions.  Taking  the  map,  he 
showed  me  that  in  all  probability  the  enemy  had  forced 
General  Lee  westward  from  Burkeville,  and  that  there 
was  danger  of  finding  the  Union  troops  already  there.  I 
was  to  proceed  very  slowly  and  cautiously.  If  the  enemy 
was  not  in  Burkeville,  I  must  use  my  judgment  whether 
to  switch  my  train  on  the  Southside  Road  and  run  west- 
ward, or  to  leave  the  car  and  take  a  horse.  If  the  enemy 
had  reached  Burkeville,  as  he  feared,  I  was  to  run  back 
to  a  station  called  Meherrin,  return  the  engine,  secure  a 
horse,  and  endeavor  to  reach  General  Lee.  "  The  reason 
that  I  suspect  the  presence  of  the  enemy  at  Burkeville," 
said  he,  "  is  that  this  evening,  after  a  long  silence,  we  have 


418  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

received  several  telegrams  purporting  to  come  from  Gen- 
eral Lee,  urging  the  forwarding  of  stores  to  that  point. 
From  the  language  used,  I  am  satisfied  that  it  is  a  trick 
to  capture  the  trains.  But  I  may  be  mistaken.  You 
must  be  careful  to  ascertain  the  facts  before  you  get  too 
close  to  the  place.     Do  not  allow  yourself  to  be  captured." 

The  general  was  not  a  demonstrative  man.  He  gave 
me  an  order  which  Mr.  Davis  had  signed  in  blank,  in 
which  my  name  was  inserted  by  General  Walker,  setting 
forth  that,  as  special  messenger  of  the  President,  I  was 
authorized  to  impress  all  necessary  men,  horses,  and  pro- 
visions to  carry  out  my  instructions.  He  accompanied  me 
to  the  train,  and  remarked  that  he  had  determined  to  try 
me,  as  I  seemed  so  anxious  to  go  ;  that  it  was  a  delicate 
and  dangerous  mission,  and  that  its  success  depended 
upon  my  quickness,  ability  to  judge  of  situations  as  they 
arose,  and  powers  of  endurance.  He  ordered  the  engineer, 
a  young,  strong  fellow,  to  place  himself  implicitly  under 
my  command.  I  threw  a  pair  of  blankets  into  the  car, 
shook  hands  cordially  with  the  general,  buttoned  my 
papers  in  my  breast  pocket,  and  told  the  engineer  to 
start.  I  did  not  see  General  Walker  again  for  more  than 
twenty  years. 

I  carried  no  arms  except  a  navy  revolver  at  my  hip, 
with  some  loose  cartridges  in  my  haversack.  The  night 
was  chilly,  still,  and  overcast.  The  moon  struggled  out 
now  and  then  from  watery  clouds.  We  had  no  headlight, 
nor  any  light  in  the  car.  It  seemed  to  me  that  our  train 
was  the  noisiest  I  had  ever  heard.  The  track  was  badly 
worn  and  very  rough.  In  many  places  it  had  been  bol- 
stered up  with  beams  of  wood  faced  with  strap  iron,  and 
we  were  compelled  to  move  slowly.  The  stations  were 
deserted.  We  had  to  put  on  our  own  wood  and  water. 
I  lay  down  to  rest,  but  nervousness  banished  sleep.     The 


THE  END  IN  SIGHT  419 

litude  of  the  car  became  unbearable.  When  we  stopped 
a  water-tank,  I  swung  down  from  the  car  and  clam- 
jred  up  to  the  engine.  Knowing  that  we  might  have  to 
verse  it  suddenly,  I  ordered  the  engineer  to  cut  loose 
e  baggage  car  and  leave  it  behind.  This  proved  to  be 
wise  precaution. 

About  two  o'clock,  we  reached  Meherrin  Station,  twelve 
iles  south  of  Burke ville.  It  was  dark,  and  the  station 
as  deserted.  I  succeeded  in  getting  an  answer  from  an 
d  man  in  a  house  near  by,  after  hammering  a  long  time 
son  the  door.     He  had  heard  us,  but  he  was  afraid  to 

ply- 

"  Have  you  heard  anything  from  Lee's  army?  "  I  asked. 

"  Naw,  nothin'  at  all.  I  heerd  he  was  at  Amelia  Cote 
ouse  yisterday." 

"  Have  you  heard  of  or  seen  any  Yankees  hereabouts  ?  " 

"  None  here  yit.  I  heerd  there  was  some  at  Green  Bay 
sterday,  but  they  had  done  gone  back." 

"  Back  where  ?  " 

"  I  dunno.     Back  to  Grant's  army,  I  reckin." 

"  Where  is  Grant's  army  ?  " 

"  Gord  knows.     It  'pears  to  me  like  it  's  everywhar." 

"  Are  there  any  Yankees  at  Burkeville  ?  " 

"  I  dunno.  I  see  a  man  come  by  here  late  last  evenin', 
id  he  said  he  come  from  Burkeville ;  so  I  reckin  there 
ere  n't  none  thar  when  he  lef ',  but  whether  they  is  come 
;nce,  I  can't  say." 

I  determined  to  push  on.  When  we  reached  Green 
lay,  eight  miles- from  Burkeville,  the  place  was  dark  and 
eserted.  There  was  nobody  from  whom  we  could  get 
lformation.  A  whippoorwill  in  the  swamp  added  to 
le  oppressive  silence  all  about.  Moving  onward,  we  dis- 
Dvered,  as  we  cautiously  approached  a  turn  in  the  road 
ear  Burkeville,  the  reflection  of  lights  against  the  low- 


420  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

hanging  clouds.  Evidently,  somebody  was  ahead,  and 
somebody  was  building  fires.  Were  these  reflections  from 
the  camp-fires  of  Lee's  or  of  Grant's  army,  or  of  any  army 
at  all  ?  On  our  right,  concealing  us  from  the  village  and 
the  village  from  us,  was  a  body  of  pine  woods.  Not  until 
we  turned  the  angle  of  these  woods  could  we  see  anything. 
I  was  standing  by  the  engineer.  We  were  both  uncertain 
what  to  do.  At  first,  I  thought  I  would  get  down  and 
investigate  ;  but  I  reflected  that  I  should  lose  much  time 
in  getting  back  to  the  engine,  whereas,  if  I  pushed  boldly 
forward  until  we  were  discovered,  I  should  be  safe  if  those 
who  saw  us  were  friends,  and  able  to  retreat  rapidly  il 
they  were  enemies. 

"  Go  ahead  !  "  I  said  to  the  engineer. 

"  What,  lieutenant  ?  Ain't  you  afraid  they  are  Yan- 
kees ?     If  they  are,  we  're  goners,"  said  he  hesitatingly. 

"Go  ahead!"  I  repeated;  and  in  two  minutes  more 
we  were  at  the  curve,  with  the  strong  glare  of  many  fires 
lighting  up  our  engine.  What  a  sight !  Lines  of  mer 
were  heaving  at  the  rails  by  the  light  of  fires  built  foi 
working.  The  fires  and  working  parties  crossed  our  route 
to  westward,  showing  that  the  latter  were  devoting  thei] 
attention  to  the  Southside  Road.  In  the  excitement  of  tht 
moment,  I  thought  they  were  destroying  the  track.  Ii 
fact,  as  I  afterward  learned,  they  were  merely  changing 
the  gauge  of  the  rails.  Grant,  with  that  wonderful  powei 
he  possessed  of  doing  everything  at  once,  was  already 
altering  the  railroad  gauge  so  as  to  fetch  provisions  up  t( 
his  army.  The  enemy  was  not  only  in  Burkeville,  but  h< 
had  been  there  all  day,  and  was  thus  following  up  hi: 
occupation  of  the  place.  Lee  must  be  to  the  north  or  t< 
the  west  of  him,  pushed  away  from  Danville  Road,  anc 
either  upon  or  trying  to  reach  the  Southside  Railroad 
which  led  to  Lynchburg.     All  these  things  I  thought  ou 


THE   END   IN   SIGHT  421 

i  little  later,  but  not  just  at  that  moment.  A  blazing 
neteor  would  not  have  astonished  our  foes  more  than  the 
ight  of  our  locomotive.  They  had  not  heard  our  ap- 
>roach,  amid  the  noise  and  confusion  of  their  own  work, 
rhey  had  no  picket  out  in  our  direction,  for  this  was  their 
ear.  In  an  instant,  a  number  of  troopers  rushed  for  their 
lorses  and  came  galloping  down  upon  us.  They  were  but 
wo  or  three  hundred  yards  away. 

"  Reverse  the  engine  !  "  I  said  to  the  engineer.  He 
eemed  paralyzed.     I  drew  my  pistol. 

"  It 's  no  use,  lieutenant.  They  '11  kill  us  before  we  get 
mder  away,"  and  he  fumbled  with  his  lever. 

"  Reverse,  or  you  're  a  dead  man  !  "  I  shouted,  clapping 
he  muzzle  of  my  pistol  behind  his  ear.  He  heaved  at  the 
ever ;  the  engine  began  to  move,  but  how  slowly  !  The 
roopers  were  coming  on.  We  heard  them  cry,  "  Surren- 
ler !  "  The  engine  was  quickening  her  beats.  They  saw 
hat  we  were  running,  and  they  opened  fire  on  us.  We 
ay  down  flat,  and  let  the  locomotive  go.  The  fireman  on 
he  tender  was  in  an  exposed  position,  and  seemed  to  be 
mdeavoring  to  burrow  in  the  coal.  A  shot  broke  a  win- 
low  above  us.  Presently  the  firing  ceased.  Two  or  three 
>f  the  foremost  of  the  cavalrymen  had  tumbled  into  a 
;attle-guard,  in  their  reckless  pursuit.  We  were  safe 
low,  except  that  the  engine  and  tender  were  in  momen- 
ary  danger  of  jumping  the  rotten  track. 

When  we  were  well  out  of  harm's  way,  the  engineer, 
vith  whom  I  had  been  on  very  friendly  terms  till  this  last 
jpisode,  turned  to  me  and  asked,  with  a  grieved  look, 
'  Lieutenant,  would  you  have  blowed  my  brains  out  sure 
nuff,  if  I  hadn't  done  what  you  tole  me  ?  " 

"  I  would  that,"  I  replied,  not  much  disposed  to  talk  ; 
lor  I  was  thinking,  and  thinking  hard,  what  next  to  do. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  with  a  sigh,  as  with  a  greasy  rag  he 


422  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

gave  a  fresh  rub  to  a  piece  of  machinery,  "  all  I  've  got  to 
say  is,  I  don't  want  to  travel  with  you  no  mo'." 

"  You  '11  not  have  to  travel  far,"  I  rejoined.  "  I  '11  get 
off  at  Meherrin,  and  you  can  go  back." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  he.  "  You  goin'  to  get  off  there 
in  the  dark  by  yourself,  with  no  hoss,  and  right  in  the 
middle  of  the  Yankees  ?  Durn  my  skin  if  I  'd  do  it  for 
Jeff  Davis  hisself  !  " 

Upon  our  arrival  at  Meherrin,  I  wrote  a  few  lines  to 
General  Walker,  describing  the  position  of  the  enemy, 
and  telling  him  that  I  hoped  to  reach  General  Lee  near 
High  Bridge  by  traveling  across  the  base  of  a  triangle 
formed  by  the  two  railroads  from  Burkeville  and  my 
route,  and  that  I  would  communicate  with  him  further 
when  I  could. 

It  was  a  lonesome  feeling  that  came  over  me  when  the 
engine  went  southward,  leaving  me  alone  and  in  the  dark 
at  Meherrin.  The  chill  of  daybreak  was  coming  on,  when 
I  stepped  out  briskly  upon  a  road  leading  northward.  I 
knew  that  every  minute  counted,  and  that  there  was  no 
hope  of  securing  a  horse  in  that  vicinity.  I  think  that  I 
walked  three  or  four  miles.  Day  broke  and  the  sun  rose 
before  I  came  to  an  opening.  A  kind  Providence  must 
have  guided  my  steps,  for  at  the  very  first  house  I  reached, 
a  pretty  mare  stood  at  the  horse-rack  saddled  and  bridled, 
as  if  waiting  for  me.  The  house  was  in  a  grove  by  the 
roadside.  I  found  a  hospitable  reception,  and  was  in- 
vited to  breakfast.  My  night's  work  had  made  me  raven- 
ous. My  host  was  past  military  age,  but  he  seemed  dazed 
at  the  prospect  of  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  I 
learned  from  him  that  Sheridan's  cavalry  had  advanced 
nearly  to  his  place  the  day  before.  We  ate  breakfast 
almost  in  silence.  At  the  table  I  found  Sergeant  Wil- 
kins,  of  the  Black  Walnut  Troop,  from  Halifax  County. 


THE   END   IN   SIGHT  423 

He  had  been  on  "  horse  furlough."  Confederate  cavalry- 
men supplied  their  own  horses,  and  his  horse  furlough 
meant  that  his  horse  had  broken  down,  that  he  had  been 
home  to  replace  it,  and  that  he  was  now  returning  to  duty 
with  another  beast.  His  mare  was  beautiful  and  fresh,  — 
the  very  animal  that  I  needed.  When  I  told  him  that  I 
must  take  his  horse,  he  laughed,  as  if  I  were  joking;  then 
he  positively  refused ;  but  finally,  when  I  showed  the 
sign  manual  of  Jefferson  Davis,  he  yielded,  very  reluc- 
tantly. It  was  perhaps  fortunate  for  Sergeant  Wilkins 
that  he  was  obliged  to  go  home  again,  for  his  cavalry 
command  was  engaged  heavily  that  day,  and  every  day 
thereafter,  until  the  surrender  at  Appomattox. 

On  the  morning  of  April  6,  mounted  upon  as  fine 
a  mare  as  there  was  in  the  Confederacy,  I  sallied  forth 
in  search  of  General  Lee.  I  started  northward  for  the 
Southside  Railroad.  It  was  not  long  before  I  heard  can- 
non to  the  northeast.  Thinking  that  the  sounds  came 
from  the  enemy  in  the  rear  of  Lee,  I  endeavored  to  bear 
sufficiently  westward  to  avoid  the  Union  forces.  Seeing 
no  sign  of  either  army,  I  was  going  along  leisurely,  when 
a  noise  behind  me  attracted  my  attention.  Turning  in 
my  saddle,  I  saw  at  a  distance  of  several  hundred  yards 
the  head  of  a  cavalry  command  coming  from  the  east,  and 
turning  out  of  a  cross-road  that  I  had  passed  into  the 
road  that  I  was  traveling.  They  saw  me,  and  pretended 
to  give  chase  ;  but  their  horses  were  jaded,  and  my  mare 
was  fresh  and  swift.  The  few  shots  they  fired  went  wide 
of  us,  and  I  galloped  out  of  range  quicMy  and  safely. 
My  filly,  after  her  spin,  was  mettlesome,  and  as  I  held 
her  in  hand,  I  chuckled  to  think  how  easy  it  was  to  keep 
out  of  harm's  way  on  such  a  beast. 

But  this  was  not  to  be  my  easy  day.  I  was  rapidly 
approaching  another  road,  which  came  into  my  road  from 


424  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

the  east.  I  saw  another  column  of  Union  cavalry  filing 
into  my  road,  and  going-  in  the  same  direction  that  I 
was  going.  Here  was  a  pretty  pickle !  We  were  in 
the  woods.  Did  they  see  me  ?  To  be  sure  they  did.  Of 
course  they  knew  of  the  parallel  column  of  their  own 
troops  which  I  had  passed,  and  I  think  they  first  mistook 
me  for  a  friend.  But  I  could  not  ride  forward  :  I  should 
have  come  upon  the  rear  of  their  column.  I  could  not 
turn  back  :  the  cavalry  force  behind  was  not  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  away.  I  stopped,  thus  disclosing  who  I  was.  Sev- 
eral of  them  made  a  dart  for  me  ;  several  more  took  shots 
with  their  carbines  ;  and  once  more  the  little  mare  and  I 
were  dashing  off,  this  time  through  the  woods  to  the  west. 

What  a  bird  she  was,  that  little  mare !  At  a  low  fence 
in  the  woods  she  did  not  make  a  pause  or  blunder,  but 
cleared  it  without  turning  a  hair.  I  resolved  now  to  get 
out  of  the  way,  for  it  was  very  evident  that  I  was  trying 
to  reach  General  Lee  by  riding  across  the  advance  col- 
umns of  Sheridan,  who  was  on  Lee's  flank.  Going  at  a 
merry  pace,  just  when  my  heart  was  ceasing  to  jump  and 
I  was  congratulating  myself  upon  a  lucky  escape,  I  was 
"  struck  flat  aback,"  as  sailors  say.  From  behind  a  large 
oak  a  keen,  racy-looking  fellow  stepped  forth,  and,  level- 
ing his  cavalry  carbine,  called  "  Halt !  "  He  was  not  ten 
feet  away. 

Halt  I  did.  It  is  all  over  now,  thought  I,  for  I  did  not 
doubt  that  he  was  a  Jesse  scout.  (That  was  the  name 
applied  by  us  to  Union  scouts  who  disguised  themselves 
in  our  uniform.)  He  looked  too  neat  and  clean  for  one 
of  our  men.  The  words  "  I  surrender  "  were  on  my  lips, 
when  he  asked,  "  Who  are  you?  "  I  had  half  a  mind  to 
lie  about  ify  but  I  gave  my  true  name  and  rank.  "  What 
the  devil  are  you  doing  here,  then  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  his 
whole  manner  changing.     I  told  him.      "  If  that  is  so," 


THE   END   IN    SIGHT  425 

said  he,  lowering  his  gun,  to  my  great  relief,  "  I  must 
aelp  to  get  you  out.  The  Yankees  are  all  around  us. 
Zlome  on."  He  led  the  way  rapidly  to  where  his  own 
horse  was  tied  behind  some  cedar  bushes,  and,  mounting, 
bade  me  follow  him.  He  knew  the  woods  well.  As  we 
rode  along,  I  ventured  to  inquire  who  he  was.  "  Curtis," 
said  he,  —  "  one  of  General  Rooney  Lee's  scouts.  I  have 
been  hanging  on  the  flank  of  this  cavalry  for  several  days. 
They  are  evidently  pushing  for  the  High  Bridge,  to  cut 
the  army  off  from  crossing  there." 

After  telling  him  of  my  adventure,  I  added:  "You 
gave  me  a  great  fright.  I  thought  you  were  a  Yankee, 
sure,  and  came  near  telling  you  that  I  was  one." 

"  It  is  well  you  did  not.  I  am  taking  no  prisoners  on 
this  trip,"  he  rejoined,  tapping  the  butt  of  his  carbine 
significantly. 

"  There  they  go,"  said  he,  as  we  came  to  an  opening 
and  saw  the  Union  cavalry  winding  down  a  red-clay  road 
to  the  north  of  us,  traveling  parallel  with  our  own  route. 
"  We  must  hurry,  or  they  '11  reach  the  Flat  Creek  ford 
ahead  of  us.  Fitz  Lee  is  somewhere  near  here,  and 
there  '11  be  fun  when  he  sees  them.  There  are  not  many 
of  them,  and  they  are  pressing  too  far  ahead  of  their 
main  column." 

After  a  sharp  ride  through  the  forest,  we  came  to  a 
wooded  hill  overlooking  the  ford  of  Flat  Creek,  a  stream 
which  runs  northward,  entering  the  Appomattox  near 
High  Bridge. 

"  Wait  here  a  moment,"  said  Curtis.  "  Let  me  ride 
out  and  see  if  we  are  safe."  Going  on  to  a  point  where 
he  could  reconnoitre,  he  turned  back,  rose  in  his  stirrups, 
waved  his  hand,  and  crying,  "  Come  on,  quick !  "  galloped 
down  the  hill  to  the  ford. 

I  followed ;  but  he  had  not  accurately  calculated  the 


426  THE   END   OF  AN  ERA 

distance.  The  head  of  the  column  of  Union  cavalry  was 
in  sight  when  he  beckoned  to  me  and  made  his  dash. 
They  saw  him  and  started  toward  him.  As  I  was  con-! 
siderably  behind  him,  they  were  much  nearer  to  me  than 
to  him.  He  crossed  safely ;  but  the  stream  was  deep,  and 
by  the  time  I  was  in  the  middle,  my  little  mare  doing  her 
best  with  the  water  up  to  her  chest,  the  Yankees  were  in 
easy  range,  making  it  uncomfortable  for  me.  The  bullets 
were  splashing  in  the  water  all  around  me.  I  threw  my- 
self off  the  saddle,  and,  nestling  close  under  the  mare's 
shoulder,  I  reached  the  other  side  unharmed.  Curtis  and 
a  number  of  pickets  stationed  at  the  ford  stood  by  me 
manfully.  The  road  beyond  the  ford  ran  into  a  deep 
gully  and  made  a  turn.  Behind  the  protection  of  this 
turn,  Curtis  and  the  pickets  opened  fire  upon  the  advan- 
cing cavalry,  and  held  them  in  check  until  I  was  safely 
over.  When  my  horse  trotted  up  with  me,  wet  as  a 
drowned  rat,  it  was  time  for  us  all  to  move  on  rapidly. 
In  the  afternoon,  I  heard  Fitz  Lee  pouring  hot  shot  into 
that  venturesome  body  of  cavalry,  and  I  was  delighted 
to  learn  afterward  that  he  had  given  them  severe  pun- 
ishment. 

Curtis  advised  me  to  go  to  Farmville,  where  I  would 
be  beyond  the  chance  of  encountering  more  Union  cav- 
alry, and  then  to  work  eastward  toward  General  Lee.  I 
had  been  upset  by  the  morning's  adventures,  and  I  was 
somewhat  demoralized.  About  a  mile  from  Farmville,  I 
found  myself  to  the  west  of  a  line  of  battle  of  infantry, 
formed  on  a  line  running  north  and  south,  moving  toward 
the  town.  Not  doubting  they  were  Union  troops,  I  gal- 
loped off  again,  and  when  I  entered  Farmville  I  did  not 
hesitate  to  inform  the  commandant  that  the  Yankees 
were  approaching.  The  news  created  quite  a  panic.  Ar- 
tillery was  put  in  position  and  preparations  were  made  to 


THE   END   IN   SIGHT  427 

resist,  when  it  was  discovered  that  the  troops  I  had  seen 
were  a  reserve  regiment  of  our  own,  falling  back  in  line 
of  battle  to  a  position  near  the  town.  I  kept  very  quiet 
when  I  heard  men  all  about  me  swearing  that  any  cow- 
ardly, panic-stricken  fool  who  would  set  such  a  report 
afloat  ought  to  be  lynched. 

I  had  now  very  nearly  joined  our  army,  which  was 
coming  directly  toward  me.  Early  in  the  afternoon,  the 
advance  of  our  troops  appeared.  How  they  straggled, 
and  how  demoralized  they  seemed  !  Eastward,  not  far 
from  the  Flat  Creek  ford,  a  heavy  fire  opened,  and  con- 
tinued for  an  hour  or  more.  As  I  afterward  learned, 
Fitz  Lee  had  collided  with  my  cavalry  friends  of  the 
morning,  and,  seeing  his  advantage,  had  availed  himself 
of  it  by  attacking  them  fiercely.  To  the  north,  about 
four  o'clock,  a  tremendous  fire  of  artillery  and  musketry 
began,  and  continued  until  dark.  I  was  riding  towards 
this  firing,  with  my  back  to  Farmville.  Very  heavy 
detonations  of  artillery  were  followed  time  and  again  by 
crashes  of  musketry.  It  was  the  battle  of  Sailors'  Creek, 
the  most  important  of  those  last  struggles  of  which  Grant 
said, "  There  was  as  much  gallantry  displayed  by  some  of 
the  Confederates  in  these  little  engagements  as  was  dis- 
played at  any  time  during  the  war,  notwithstanding  the 
sad  defeats  of  the  past  weeks."  My  father's  command 
was  doing  the  best  fighting  of  that  day.  When  Ewell 
and  Custis  Lee  had  been  captured,  when  Pickett's  divi- 
sion broke  and  fled,  when  Bushrod  Johnson,  his  division 
commander,  left  the  field  ingloriously,  my  fearless  father, 
bareheaded  and  desperate,  led  his  brigade  into  action  at 
Sailors'  Creek,  and,  though  completely  surrounded,  cut 
his  way  out,  and  reached  Farmville  at  daylight  with  the 
fragments  of  his  command. 

It  was  long  after  nightfall  when  the  firing  ceased.    We 


428  THE   END   OF  AN  ERA 

had  not  then  learned  the  particulars,  but  it  was  easy  to 
see  that  the  contest  had  gone  against  us.  The  enemy 
had,  in  fact,  at  Sailors'  Creek,  stampeded  the  remnant  of 
Pickett's  division,  broken  our  lines,  captured  six  general 
officers,  including  Generals  Ewell  and  Custis  Lee,  and 
burned  a  large  part  of  our  wagon  trains.  As  evening 
came  on,  the  road  was  filled  with  wagons,  artillery,  and 
bodies  of  men,  hurrying  without  organization  and  in  a 
state  of  panic  toward  Farmville.  I  met  two  general 
officers,  of  high  rank  and  great  distinction,  who  seemed 
utterly  demoralized,  and  they  declared  that  all  was  lost. 
That  portion  of  the  army  which  was  still  unconquered  was 
falling  back  with  its  face  to  the  foe,  and  bivouacked  with 
its  right  and  left  flanks  resting  upon  the  Appomattox 
to  cover  the  crossings  to  the  north  side,  near  Farmville. 
Upon  reaching  our  lines,  I  found  the  divisions  of  Field 
and  Malone  presenting  an  unbroken  and  defiant  front. 
Passing  from  camp  to  camp  in  search  of  General  Lee,  I 
encountered  General  Mahone,  who  told  me  where  to  find 
General  Lee.  He  said  that  the  enemy  had  "knocked  hell 
out  of  Pickett."  "  But,"  he  added  savagely,  "  my  fellows 
are  all  right.  We  are  just  waiting  for  'em."  And  so  they 
were.  When  the  army  surrendered,  three  days  later,  Ma- 
hone's  division  was  in  better  fighting  trim  and  surrendered 
more  muskets  than  any  other  division  of  Lee's  army. 

It  was  past  midnight  when  I  found  General  Lee.  He 
was  in  an  open  field  north  of  Rice's  Station  and  east  of 
the  High  Bridge.  A  camp-fire  of  fence-rails  was  burn- 
ing low.  Colonel  Charles  Marshall  sat  in  an  ambulance, 
with  a  lantern  and  a  lap-desk.  He  was  preparing  orders 
at  the  dictation  of  General  Lee,  who  stood  near,  with 
one  hand  resting  on  a  wheel  and  one  foot  upon  the  end 
of  a  log,  watching  intently  the  dying  embers  as  he  spoke 
in  a  low  tone  to  his  amanuensis. 


THE   END   IN   SIGHT  429 

Touching  my  cap  as  I  rode  up,  I  inquired,  "  General 
Lee?" 

"  Yes,"  he  replied  quietly,  and  I  dismounted  and  ex- 
plained my  mission.  He  examined  my  autograph  order 
from  Mr.  Davis,  and  questioned  me  closely  concerning 
the  route  by  which  I  had  come.  He  seemed  especially 
interested  in  my  report  of  the  position  of  the  enemy  at 
Burkeville  and  westward,  to  the  south  of  his  army. 
Then,  with  a  long  sigh,  he  said :  "  I  hardly  think  it  is 
necessary  to  prepare  written  dispatches  in  reply.  They 
may  be  captured.  The  enemy's  cavalry  is  already  flank- 
ing us  to  the  south  and  west.  You  seem  capable  of  bear- 
ing a  verbal  response.  You  may  say  to  Mr.  Davis  that, 
as  he  knows,  my  original  purpose  was  to  adhere  to  the 
line  of  the  Danville  Road.  I  have  been  unable  to  do  so, 
and  am  now  endeavoring  to  hold  the  Southside  Road  as 
I  retire  in  the  direction  of  Lynchburg." 

"  Have  you  any  objective  point,  general,  —  any  place 
where  you  contemplate  making  a  stand  ? "  I  ventured 
timidly. 

"  No,"  said  he  slowly  and  sadly,  "  no  ;  I  shall  have  to 
be  governed  by  each  day's  developments."  Then,  with  a 
touch  of  resentment,  and  raising  his  voice,  he  added,  "  A 
few  more  Sailors'  Creeks  and  it  will  all  be  over  —  ended 
—  just  as  I  have  expected  it  would  end  from  the  first." 

I  was  astonished  at  the  frankness  of  this  avowal  to  one 
so  insignificant  as  I.  It  made  a  deep  and  lasting  impres- 
sion on  me.  It  gave  me  an  insight  into  the  character  of 
General  Lee  which  all  the  books  ever  written  about  him 
could  never  give.  It  elevated  him  in  my  opinion  more 
than  anything  else  he  ever  said  or  did.  It  revealed  him 
as  a  man  who  had  sacrificed  everything  to  perform  a  con- 
scientious duty  against  his  judgment.  He  had  loved  the 
Union.     He  had  believed  secession  was  unnecessary  ;  he 


430  THE  END   OF   AN   ERA 

had  looked  upon  it  as  hopeless  folly.  Yet  at  the  call  of 
his  State  he  had  laid  his  life  and  fame  and  fortune  at  her 
feet,  and  served  her  faithfully  to  the  last. 

After  another  pause,  during  which,  although  he  spoke 
not  a  word  and  gave  not  a  sign,  I  could  discern  a  great 
struggle  within  him,  he  turned  to  me  and  said:  "You 
must  be  very  tired,  my  son.  You  have  had  an  exciting 
day.  Go  rest  yourself,  and  report  to  me  at  Farmville  at 
sunrise.  I  may  determine  to  send  a  written  dispatch." 
The  way  in  which  he  called  me  "  my  son  "  made  me  feel 
as  if  I  would  die  for  him. 

Hesitating  a  moment,  I  inquired, "  General,  can  you 
give  me  any  tidings  of  my  father?" 

"  Your  father  ?  "  he  asked.     "  Who  is  your  father  ?  " 

"  General  Wise." 

"Ah!  "said  he,  with  another  pause.  "No,  no.  At 
nightfall,  his  command  was  fighting  obstinately  at  Sailors' 
Creek,  surrounded  by  the  enemy.  I  have  heard  nothing 
from  them  since.  I  fear  they  were  captured,  or  —  or  — 
worse."  To  these  words,  spoken  with  genuine  sympathy, 
he  added :  "  Your  father's  command  has  borne  itself 
nobly  throughout  this  retreat.  You  may  well  feel  proud 
of  him  and  of  it." 

My  father  was  not  dead.  At  the  very  moment  when 
we  were  talking,  he  and  the  remnant  of  his  brigade  were 
tramping  across  the  High  Bridge,  feeling  like  victors, 
and  he,  bareheaded  and  with  an  old  blanket  pinned 
around  him,  was  chewing  tobacco  and  cursing  Bushrod 
Johnson  for  running  off  and  leaving  him  to  fight  his  own 
way  out. 

I  found  a  little  pile  of  leaves  in  a  pine  thicket,  and 
lay  down  in  the  rear  of  Field's  division  for  a  nap.  Fear- 
ing that  somebody  would  steal  my  horse,  I  looped  the 
reins  around  my  wrist,  and  the  mare  stood  by  my  side. 


THE  END   IN   SIGHT  431 

We  were  already  good  friends.  Just  before  daylight,  she 
gave  a  snort  and  a  jerk  which  nearly  dislocated  my  arm, 
and  I  awoke  to  find  her  alarmed  at  Field's  division, 
which  was  withdrawing  silently  and  had  come  suddenly 
upon  her.  Warned  by  this  incident,  I  mounted,  and 
proceeded  toward  Farmville,  to  report,  as  directed,  to 
General  Lee  for  further  orders.  North  of  the  stream  at 
Farmville,  in  the  forks  of  the  road,  was  the  house  then 
occupied  by  General  Lee.  On  the  hill  behind  the  house, 
to  the  left  of  the  road,  was  a  grove.  Seeing  troops  in 
this  grove,  I  rode  in,  inquiring  for  General  Lee's  head- 
quarters. The  troops  were  lying  there  more  like  dead 
men  than  live  ones.  They  did  not  move,  and  they  had  no 
sentries  out.  The  sun  was  shining  upon  them  as  they 
slept.  I  did  not  recognize  them.  Dismounting,  and 
shaking  an  officer,  I  awoke  him  with  difficulty.  He 
rolled  over,  sat  up,  and  began  rubbing  his  eyes,  which 
were  bloodshot  and  showed  great  fatigue. 

"  Hello,  John  !  "  said  he.  "  In  the  name  of  all  that  is 
wonderful,  where  did  you  come  from  ? "  It  was  Lieu- 
tenant Edmund  R.  Bagwell,  of  the  46th.  The  men,  a  few 
hundred  in  all,  were  the  pitiful  remnant  of  my  father's 
brigade. 

"  Have  you  seen  the  old  general  ?  "  asked  Ned.  "  He  's 
over  there.  Oh,  we  have  had  a  week  of  it !  Yes,  this  is 
all  that  is  left  of  us.  John,  the  old  man  will  give  you 
thunder  when  he  sees  you.  When  we  were  coming  on 
last  night  in  the  dark,  he  said,  '  Thank  God,  John  is  out 
of  this ! '  Dick  ?  Why,  Dick  was  captured  yesterday 
at  Sailors'  Creek.  He  was  riding  the  general's  old  mare, 
Maggie,  and  she  squatted  like  a  rabbit  with  him  when 
the  shells  began  to  fly.  She  always  had  that  trick.  He 
could  not  make  her  go  forward  or  backward.  You  ought 
to  have  seen  Dick  belaboring  her  with  his  sword.    But  the 


432  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

Yanks  got  him !  "  and  Ned  burst  into  a  laugh  as  he  led 
me  where  my  father  was.  Nearly  sixty  years  old,  he  lay, 
like  a  common  soldier,  sleeping  on  the  ground  among  his 
men. 

We  aroused  him,  and  when  he  saw  me,  he  exclaimed : 
"  Well,  by  great  Jehoshaphat,  what  are  you  doing  here  ? 
I  thought  you,  at  least,  were  safe."  I  hugged  him,  and 
almost  laughed  and  cried  at  the  sight  of  him  safe  and 
sound,  for  General  Lee  had  made  me  very  uneasy.  I  told 
him  why  I  was  there. 

"  Where  is  General  Lee  ?  "  he  asked  earnestly,  spring- 
ing to  his  feet.  "  I  want  to  see  him  again.  I  saw  him 
this  morning  about  daybreak.  I  had  washed  my  face  in 
a  mud-puddle,  and  the  red  mud  was  all  over  it  and  in 
the  roots  of  my  hair.  I  looked  like  a  Comanche  Indian  ; 
and  when  I  was  telling  him  how  we  cut  our  way  out  last 
night,  he  broke  into  a  smile  and  said,  '  General,  go  wash 
your  face ! '  "  The  incident  pleased  him  immensely,  for 
at  the  same  time  General  Lee  made  him  a  division  com- 
mander, —  a  promotion  he  had  long  deserved  for  gal- 
lantry, if  not  for  military  knowledge. 

"  No,  Dick  is  not  captured.  He  got  out,  I  'm  sure," 
said  he,  as  we  walked  down  the  hill  together.  "  He  was 
separated  from  me  when  the  enemy  broke  our  line.  He 
was  not  riding  Maggie.  I  lent  her  to  Frank  Johnson. 
He  was  wounded,  and,  remembering  his  kindness  to  your 
brother  Jennings  the  day  he  was  killed,  I  tried  to  save 
the  poor  fellow,  and  told  him  to  ride  Maggie  to  the  rear. 
Dick  was  riding  his  black  horse.  I  know  it.  When  the 
Yankees  advanced,  a  flock  of  wild  turkeys  flushed  before 
them  and  came  sailing  into  our  lines.  I  saw  Dick  gallop 
after  a  gobbler  and  shoot  him  and  tie  him  to  his  saddle- 
bow. He  was  coming  back  toward  us  when  the  line 
broke,  and,  mounted  as  he  was,  he  has  no  doubt  escaped, 
but  is  cut  off  from  us  by  the  enemy. 


THE  END   IN   SIGHT  433 

"Yes,  the  Yanks  got  the  bay  horse,  and  my  servants 
Joshua  and  Smith,  and  all  my  baggage,  overcoats,  and 
plunder.  A  private  soldier  pinned  this  blanket  around 
me  last  night,  and  I  found  this  hat  when  I  was  coming 
off  the  field." 

He  laughed  heartily  at  his  own  plight.  I  have  never 
since  seen  a  catch-pin  half  so  large  as  that  with  which  his 
blanket  was  gathered  at  the  throat.  As  we  passed  down 
the  road  to  General  Lee's  headquarters,  the  roads  and 
the  fields  were  filled  with  stragglers.  They  moved  look- 
ing behind  them,  as  if  they  expected  to  be  attacked  and 
harried  by  a  pursuing  foe.  Demoralization,  panic,  aban- 
donment of  all  hope,  appeared  on  every  hand.  Wagons 
svere  rolling  along  without  any  order  or  system.  Caissons 
and  limber-chests,  without  commanding  officers,  seemed 
bo  be  floating  aimlessly  upon  a  tide  of  disorganization. 
Rising  to  his  full  height,  casting  a  glance  around  him 
[ike  that  of  an  eagle,  and  sweeping  the  horizon  with  his 
long  arm  and  bony  forefinger,  my  father  exclaimed,  "  This 
is  the  end !  "  It  is  impossible  to  convey  an  idea  of  the 
agony  and  the  bitterness  of  his  words  and  gestures. 

We  found  General  Lee  on  the  rear  portico  of  the  house 
ihat  I  have  mentioned.  He  had  washed  his  face  in  a  tin 
basin,  and  stood  drying  his  beard  with  a  coarse  towel 
as  we  approached.  "  General  Lee,"  exclaimed  my  father, 
■'  my  poor,  brave  men  are  lying  on  yonder  hill  more  dead 
bhan  alive.  For  more  than  a  week  they  have  been  fight- 
ing day  and  night,  without  food,  and,  by  God,  sir,  they 
mall  not  move  another  step  until  somebody  gives  them 
something  to  eat !  " 

"  Come  in,  general,"  said  General  Lee  soothingly. 
;'  They  deserve  something  to  eat,  and  shall  have  it ;  and 
meanwhile  you  shall  share  my  breakfast."  He  disarmed 
jverything  like  defiance  by  his  kindness. 


434  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

It  was  but  a  few  moments,  however,  before  my  father 
launched  forth  in  a  fresh  denunciation  of  the  conduct  of 
General  Bushrod  Johnson  in  the  engagement  of  the  6th. 
I  am  satisfied  that  General  Lee  felt  as  he  did  ;  but,  assum- 
ing an  air  of  mock  severity,  he  said,  "  General,  are  you 
aware  that  you  are  liable  to  court-martial  and  execution 
for  insubordination  and  disrespect  toward  your  command- 
ing officer  ?  " 

My  father  looked  at  him  with  lifted  eyebrows  and 
flashing  eyes,  and  exclaimed  :  "  Shot !  You  can't  afford  to 
shoot  the  men  who  fight  for  cursing  those  who  run  away. 
Shot !  I  wish  you  would  shoot  me.  If  you  don't,  some 
Yankee  probably  will  within  the  next  twenty-four  hours." 

Growing  more  serious,  General  Lee  inquired  what  he 
thought  of  the  situation. 

"  Situation  ?  "  said  the  bold  old  man.  "  There  is  no 
situation  !  Nothing  remains,  General  Lee,  but  to  put 
your  poor  men  on  your  poor  mules  and  send  them  home 
in  time  for  spring  ploughing.  This  army  is  hopelessly 
whipped,  and  is  fast  becoming  demoralized.  These  men 
have  already  endured  more  than  I  believed  flesh  and 
blood  could  stand,  and  I  say  to  you,  sir,  emphatically, 
that  to  prolong  the  struggle  is  murder,  and  the  blood  of 
every  man  who  is  killed  from  this  time  forth  is  on  your 
head,  General  Lee." 

This  last  expression  seemed  to  cause  General  Lee  great 
pain.  With  a  gesture  of  remonstrance,  and  even  of  im- 
patience, he  protested :  "  Oh,  general,  do  not  talk  so 
wildly.  My  burdens  are  heavy  enough.  What  would 
the  country  think  of  me,  if  I  did  what  you  suggest  ?  " 

"  Country  be  d d  !  "  was  the  quick  reply.     "  There 

is  no  country.  There  has  been  no  country,  general,  for  a 
year  or  more.  You  are  the  country  to  these  men.  They 
have  fought  for  you.     They  have  shivered  through  a  long 


THE  END  IN  SIGHT  435 

winter  for  you.  Without  pay  or  clothes,  or  care  of  any 
sort,  their  devotion  to  you  and  faith  in  you  have  been  the 
only  things  which  have  held  this  army  together.  If  you 
demand  the  sacrifice,  there  are  still  left  thousands  of  us 
who  will  die  for  you.  You  know  the  game  is  desperate 
beyond  redemption,  and  that,  if  you  so  announce,  no  man 
or  government  or  people  will  gainsay  your  decision.  That 
is  why  I  repeat  that  the  blood  of  any  man  killed  hereafter 
is  upon  your  head." 

General  Lee  stood  for  some  time  at  an  open  window, 
looking  out  at  the  throng  now  surging  by  upon  the  roads 
and  in  the  fields,  and  made  no  response.  Then,  turning 
his  attention  to  me,  he  said  cheerfully  that  he  was  glad 
my  father's  plight  was  not  so  bad  as  he  had  thought  it 
might  be,  at  the  time  of  our  conversation  the  night  be- 
fore. After  a  pause,  he  wrote  upon  a  piece  of  paper  a 
few  words  to  the  effect  that  he  had  talked  with  me,  and 
that  I  would  make  a  verbal  report.  If  occasion  arose,  he 
would  give  further  advices.  "  This,"  said  he,  "  you  will 
deliver  to  the  President.  I  fear  to  write,  lest  you  be  cap- 
tured, for  those  people  are  already  several  miles  above 
Farmville.  You  must  keep  on  the  north  side  to  a  ford 
eight  miles  above  here,  and  be  careful  about  crossing  even 
there."  He  always  referred  to  the  enemy  as  "  those  peo- 
ple." Then  he  bade  me  adieu,  and  asked  my  father  to 
come  in  and  share  his  breakfast. 

I  hugged  my  father  in  the  presence  of  General  Lee, 
and  I  saw  a  kindly  look  in  his  eyes  as  he  watched  us. 
Remembering  that  my  father  had  no  horse,  I  said,  "  Take 
my  mare.     I  can  easily  get  another." 

"  What !  "  said  he,  laughing,  "  a  dispatch-bearer  giving 
away  his  horse  !  No,  sir.  That  is  too  pretty  a  little  ani- 
mal to  make  a  present  to  a  Yankee.  I  know  they  will 
bag  us  all,  horse,  foot,  and  dragoons,  before  long.     No. 


436  THE  END   OF  AN   ERA 

I  can  walk  as  well  as  anybody.  Have  you  any  chewing 
tobacco  ?  " 

I  was  immensely  flattered  at  this  request,  and  gave  him 
a  plug  of  excellent  tobacco.  It  was  the  first  time  that  he 
had  recognized  me  as  entitled  to  the  possession  of  all  the 
'b  modern  improvements  "  of  a  soldier. 

And  so  I  left  them.  As  I  rode  along  in  search  of  the 
ford  to  which  General  Lee  had  directed  me,  I  felt  that  I 
was  in  the  midst  of  the  wreck  of  that  immortal  army 
which,  until  now,  I  had  believed  to  be  invincible. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE   END 


Eight  miles  of  brisk  riding  carried  me  beyond  the  flot- 
sam and  jetsam  of  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia.  I  was 
alone  in  the  meadows  on  the  north  of  the  Appomattox 
River.  The  sun  shone  brightly,  and  under  the  wooded 
bluffs  upon  the  opposite  bank  of  the  narrow  stream  the 
little  valley  up  which  my  route  led  was  warm  and  still. 
The  dogwood  was  beginning  to  bloom  ;  the  grass  near  the 
river  banks  was  showing  the  first  verdure  of  spring  ;  the 
willows  overhanging  the  stream  were  purpling  and  swell- 
ing with  buds.  A  cock  grouse  among  the  laurels  was 
drumming  to  his  mate,  and  more  than  once  I  heard  the 
gobble  of  the  wild  turkey.  Behind  me,  in  the  distance, 
were  sounds  of  artillery  ;  from  time  to  time,  our  guns 
opened  to  hold  the  enemy  in  check,  or  he,  pursuing, 
availed  himself  of  some  eminence  to  shell  our  retreating 
masses.  In  due  season  the  designated  ford  was  reached. 
The  little  mare,  her  neck  and  flanks  warm  but  not  heated 
with  exercise,  waded  into  the  stream  up  to  her  knees,  and, 
plunging  her  nose  into  the  water,  quenched  her  thirst.  A 
gray  squirrel,  startled  from  a  hickory  near  the  ford,  ran 
out  upon  a  limb,  swung  himself  to  anotner  tree,  and 
scampered  away  through  the  sunlight  and  the  shadows  to 
gain  his  castle  in  the  hollow  oak  upon  the  hillside.  In  a 
neighboring  cedar,  a  redbird  (cardinal  grosbeak),  warmed 
by  the  sunlight,  uttered  the  soft  call  with  which  he  wooes 
his  mate  in  springtime. 


438  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

How  peaceful,  how  secluded,  how  inviting  to  repose, 
seemed  this  sheltered  nook  !  It  was  hard  to  realize  what 
a  seething  caldron  of  human  life  and  human  passion  was 
boiling  so  near  at  hand.  I  needed  rest.  It  was  Friday, 
and  since  I  left  Clover  Station,  Wednesday  night,  I  had 
slept  but  three  hours.  Oh,  the  heartache  of  those  last 
eight  miles  of  travel,  with  time  to  reflect  in  solitude  upon 
what  I  had  seen !  The  hopeless,  quiet  dignity  of  Gen- 
eral Lee,  the  impassioned  desperation  of  my  father,  were 
present  like  a  nightmare.  The  shattered  idols  of  boyish 
dreams  lay  strewn  about  me  on  the  road  along  which  I 
had  been  traveling.  I  had  seen  commands  scattered  and 
blasted  which,  until  now,  had  represented  victory  or  un- 
broken defiance.  I  had  beheld  officers  who,  until  yester- 
day, had  impersonated  to  my  youthful  ardor  nothing  but 
gallantry,  demoralized,  separated  from  their  commands, 
and  with  all  stomach  gone  for  further  fighting.  Ever  and 
again,  my  thoughts  went  back  to  the  brave  troops  through 
whose  ranks  I  had  ridden  the  night  previous  in  search  of 
General  Lee  ;  and  then  my  pride  rose  af  resh.  Yet  in  my 
heart  I  knew  that  they  were  but  a  handful  to  resist  the 
armies  of  Grant ;  that  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia  was 
a  thing  of  the  past ;  that  its  surrender  was  only  a  question 
of  a  few  days  at  furthest ;  and  that  the  war  was  virtually 
ended.  Then  would  come  the  sickening  thought,  so  elo- 
quently expressed  by  my  father,  that  every  man  thence- 
forth killed  was  a  noble  life  literally  thrown  away.  And, 
knowing  my  father  as  I  did,  I  felt  that  it  was  more  than 
likely  he  would  be  one  of  those  to  fall ;  for  his  counsel 
was  not  the  counsel  of  a  coward.  His  courage  and  spirit 
of  defiance  were  still  unbroken.  His  proudest  testimo- 
nial is  that  recorded  concerning  his  conduct  on  the  retreat 
by  Fitzhugh  Lee,  who  in  describing  it  declared  that, 
until  the  order  of  surrender  went  forth  at  Appomattox, 


THE   END  439 

he  fought  with  the  fervor  of  youth,  and  exposed  himself 
as  unhesitatingly  as  when  he  was  full  of  hope  at  the  open- 
ing of  the  war. 

Alone,  torn  by  these  bitter  thoughts,  patriotic  and  per- 
sonal, exhausted  by  two  days  and  nights  of  excitement 
and  fatigue,  and  contemplating  with  no  pleasant  anticipa- 
tions seventy  miles  of  hard  riding  before  me,  I  gathered 
my  reins,  touched  the  flank  of  my  horse,  and  resumed 
my  journey.  The  country  south  of  the  Appomattox  was 
wooded  and  somev  'iat  broken.  The  roads  led  between 
"  hogback "  hills,  as  they  are  called.  I  drew  out  my 
brierwood  pipe  and  consoled  myself  with  a  smoke ;  for 
among  my  other  military  accomplishments  I  had  acquired 
the  habit  of  smoking. 

I  was  taking  it  easily,  and  was  riding  "  woman  fashion," 
to  rest  myself  in  the  saddle.  The  mare  moved  quietly 
forward  at  a  fox  trot.  I  felt  sure  I  was  well  ahead  of  the 
flanking  column  of  the  enemy.  Of  a  sudden  my  ear 
caught  the  sound  of  a  human  voice.  It  was  distant,  —  a 
singsong  note,  resembling  the  woodland  "  halloo  "  we  often 
hear.  For  a  moment  I  thought  it  might  be  the  voice  of 
a  darkey  singing  as  he  drove  his  team  along.  But  it 
ceased,  and  in  its  place  I  heard,  in  a  direction  which  I 
could  not  determine,  sounds  like  falling  rain,  with  heavy 
drops  distinctly  audible  in  the  downpour.  I  recognized 
the  sound. 

When  we  were  studying  Virgil,  our  tutor  delighted  to 
take  up  those  lines  of  the  iEneid  wherein  the  poet  de- 
scribes the  footfall  of  many  horses  as  the  cavalry  ap- 
proaches :  — 

' '  It  clamor,  et  agmine  facto 
Quadrupedante  putrem  sonitu  quatit  ungula  eampnm." 

After  reading  them  he  would  look  around  and  ask,  "  Eh  ? 
don't  you  hear  the  very  sound  of  the  horses'  feet  in  the 


440  THE  END   OF   AN   ERA 

words  ?  "  Well,  of  course  we  did  not,  and  Parson  Dudley 
thought  we  were  trifling  young  cubs  not  to  see  the  beauty 
of  Virgil's  verbal  horseplay.  Still,  the  words  stuck,  and 
I  often  repeated  them  afterward.  Now,  who  would  have 
imagined  that  the  little  Latin  I  had  acquired,  partly  a 
'priori  and  partly  a  posteriori,  would  one  day  serve  to  aid 
in  escaping  capture  ?  I  listened.  I  repeated :  "  Quad- 
rupe  —  dantepu  —  tremsoni  —  tuquatit  —  ungula  —  cam- 
pum."  I  said  to  myself :  "  That  sound  is  the  sound  of 
cavalry.  That  voice  was  the  voice  of  command.  Which 
way  shall  I  go  ?  " 

"  Plague  take  you,  be  quiet ! "  I  said  to  the  mare,  slap- 
ping her  impatiently  on  the  neck ;  for  at  that  moment  she 
lifted  her  head,  pointed  her  ears,  and,  raising  her  ribs, 
gave  a  loud  whinny.  By  good  luck,  almost  at  the  same 
instant  the  sound  of  clashing  cymbals  and  the  music  of  a 
mounted  band  came  through  the  forest.  The  hostile  forces 
were  but  a  few  hundred  yards  away.  As  I  soon  learned, 
they  were  moving  on  a  road  leading  to  the  ford,  but  enter- 
ing the  road  that  I  was  traveling  just  beyond  the  spot 
where  I  first  heard  them.  The  hill  on  my  left  ran  down 
to  a  point  where  the  advancing  column  was  coming  into 
the  road  on  which  I  was.  The  summit  of  the  hill  was 
covered  by  a  thick  growth  of  laurel  and  pine.  I  sprang 
from  the  saddle,  led  the  mare  up  the  hillside,  tied  her, 
and,  reflecting  that  she  might  whinny  again,  left  her,  ran 
along  the  hill-crest  as  near  to  the  enemy  as  I  dared  go, 
lay  down  behind  an  old  log,  covered  myself  with  leaves 
and  bushes,  and  was  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  spot 
which  the  enemy  passed.  I  could  see  them  from  behind 
the  end  of  my  log. 

"  Hurrah  !  hurrah !  "  they  shouted,  as  the  band  played 
"  Johnny  Comes  Marching  Home."  They  were  elated  and 
full  of  enthusiasm,  for  the  Johnnies  were  on  the  run,  and 


THE   END  441 

the  pursuit  was  now  little  more  than  a  foot-race.  The 
band  struck  up  "  Captain  Jenks  of  the  Horse  Marines  " 
as  they  swept  on  to  the  ford,  walking,  trotting,  ambling, 
pacing,  their  guidons  fluttering  in  the  spring  breeze. 
"  Hurrah  !  hurrah !  hurrah !  "  How  different  was  the 
cheering  from  the  wild  yell  to  which  I  was  accustomed ! 
I  lay  there,  with  my  pistol  in  my  hand,  watching  them, 
really  interested  in  contrasting  their  good  equipment  and 
their  ardor  with  the  wretched  scenes  that  I  had  left  be- 
hind. A  wild  turkey  hen,  startled  from  her  nest  near  the 
roadside,  came  flying  directly  up  the  hill,  alighted  on  the 
further  side  of  the  log  behind  which  I  was  lying,  and, 
squatting  low,  ran  within  three  feet  of  my  nose.  Peering 
into  my  face  with  frightened  eyes,  she  gave  a  "  put !  "  of 
amazement  and  sheered  off.  I  convulsively  clutched  my 
pistol  to  shoot  her.  No,  I  did  not  shoot.  I  had  reasons 
for  not  shooting.  But  I  am  sure  this  was  the  only  wild 
turkey  that  ever  came  within  range  of  my  weapon  with- 
out receiving  a  salute. 

The  cavalcade  swept  by,  and  did  not  suspect  my  pre- 
sence. When  all  was  still  again,  hurrying  back  to  the 
filly,  I  mounted,  rode  down  to  the  forks  of  the  road,  took 
the  one  that  led  westward,  and  galloped  away.  I  felt 
sure,  from  the  rapidity  with  which  I  had  traveled,  that 
this  must  be  the  advance  of  the  enemy,  and  I  resolved  to 
take  no  further  risks.  I  was  right,  for  I  saw  no  more 
Union  troops.  Late  that  afternoon,  in  Charlotte  County, 
I  passed  the  plantation  of  Koanoke,  once  the  home  of 
John  Randolph.     It  looked  desolate  and  overgrown. 

"  Oh,  John  Randolph,  John,  John !  "  thought  I,  as  I 
rode  by,  "  you  have  gotten  some  other  Johns,  in  fact  the 
whole  breed  of  Johnnies,  into  a  peck  of  trouble  by  the 
governmental  notions  which  you  left  to  them  as  a  legacy. 
By  the  way,  John,"  changing  into  a  merrier  vein,  "  I  wish 


442  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

some  of  those  thoroughbreds  you  once  owned  were  still  in 
your  stables  ;  my  gallant  animal  is  nearly  done  for  by  the 
murderous  pace  of  the  last  six  hours."  Neither  the  spirit 
nor  the  horses  of  John  Randolph  responded,  either  to 
maintain  his  principles,  or  to  supply  me  a  fresh  mount 
from  the  skeleton  stables,  and  I  rode  on. 

I  reached  the  Episcopal  rectory  at  Halifax  Court  House 
after  midnight.  My  brother  Henry  was  the  minister. 
He  was  a  glorious  fellow,  who,  if  he  had  not  been  a 
preacher,  would  have  made  a  dashing  soldier.  I  ham- 
mered upon  the  door,  and  he  came  down.  I  was  now  only 
twenty  miles  west  of  my  post  at  Clover  Station.  I  had 
visited  him  several  times  while  I  was  quartered  there,  but 
since  the  evacuation  of  Richmond  he  had  heard  nothing 
from  any  of  us,  although  he  had  made  many  inquiries,  for 
me  particularly. 

When  I  told  him  of  my  last  three  adventures,  he  looked 
me  over,  and,  seeing  how  red  my  eyes  were,  said  that  he 
was  afraid  I  was  drunk.  "  Not  much,"  I  replied  ;  "  but 
if  you  have  anything  to  eat  and  to  drink,  get  it  out 
quickly,  for  I  am  nearly  famished.  You  may  think  I  am 
drunk,  Henry,  but  come  out  and  look  at  the  mare.  Prob- 
ably you  will  think  she  has  the  delirium  tremens."  He 
was  soon  dressed,  and  we  went  out  to  minister  to  the 
faithful  brute. 

She  stood  with  head  hung  low,  her  red  nostrils  distend- 
ing and  contracting,  her  sides  heaving,  her  knees  trem- 
bling, her  flanks  roweled  and  red,  the  sweat  dripping  from 
her  wet  body.  Poor  little  Tulip  (that  was  her  name),  I 
had  not  done  it  wantonly.  I  was  performing  a  duty  of 
life  and  death. 

"  You  cannot  ride  her  to  Danville,"  said  Henry,  who 
was  a  good  horseman. 

"  No,  of  course  not.     I  came  after  your  bay  horse." 


THE   END  443 

Henry  loved  his  mare,  and  under  other  circumstances 
he  would  not  have  listened  to  such  a  proposition  ;  but 
patriotism  overcame  him,  and  he  simply  answered,  with 
a  sigh,  "Very  well." 

I  count  it  a  creditable  episode  in  my  life  that  I  took 
off  my  coat,  tired  as  I  was,  and  gave  Tulip  a  good  rubbing 
down,  and  fed  her  and  bedded  her,  bless  her  game  heart ! 

"  You  cannot  go  forward  at  once,"  Henry  urged,  when 
we  returned  to  the  house.  He  started  a  fire  in  the  dining- 
room,  and  placed  an  abundance  of  cold  victuals  and  drink 
upon  the  table,  and  his  pretty  young  wife  entered  to  hear 
the  war  news. 

"  Well,  I  thought  I  might,  but  blamed  if  I  don't  be- 
lieve I  'm  forced  to  take  a  rest,"  I  replied.  "  Will  you 
have  your  mare  saddled  and  me  waked  at  daybreak  ?  " 

It  was  so  arranged,  and,  after  I  had  eaten  like  a  glut- 
ton, I  lit  a  pipe  and  tried  to  stay  awake  to  answer  Hen- 
ry's eager  questions ;  but  I  fell  asleep  in  the  chair,  and 
the  next  I  knew  he  was  leading  me  by  the  arm  up  to  a 
large  bedroom,  the  like  of  which  I  had  not  seen  for  many 
a  day.  Tumbling  into  bed,  I  knew  no  more  until  he 
roused  me  at  daybreak,  fed  me,  put  me  on  his  mare,  and 
said  a  "  God  bless  you !  "  I  went  off  sore  and  reluctant, 
but  soon  limbered  up  and  grew  willing,  as  his  horse, 
fresh  and  almost  as  good  as  Tulip,  strode  gallantly  on 
to  Danville. 

"  Man  never  is,  but  always  to  be  blest."  I  was  envy- 
ing preachers,  and  thinking  what  a  good  time  Henry  was 
having  ;  and  he,  poor  fellew,  had  spent  the  night  striding 
up  and  down  the  floor,  bemoaning  the  hard  fate  which 
had  made  him  a  non-combatant. 

It  was  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening  of  Saturday, 
April  8,  1865,  when  the  hoofs  of  my  horse  resounded  on 
the  bridge  which  spans  the  Roanoke  at  Danville.     I  do 


444  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

not  recall  the  exact  distance  traversed  that  day,  but  it 
was  enough  for  man  and  beast.  I  had  a  good,  comfort- 
able ride.  Henry  had  filled  my  saddle-pockets  with  ex- 
cellent food,  and  two  flasks  of  coffee  made  by  him,  while 
I  slept,  from  a  precious  remnant  that  he  had  preserved 
for  the  sick  of  his  congregation.  He  was  a  prince  of 
hospitality  and  common  sense.  He  had  liquor,  and  was 
no  blue-nose  ;  but  he  said  that  he  would  give  me  none, 
for  the  double  reason  that  I  seemed  to  like  it  too  well, 
and  that,  in  case  of  protracted  effort,  it  was  not  so  relia- 
ble a  stimulant  as  coffee. 

The  lights  of  Danville  were  a  welcome  sight.  The  town 
was  crowded  with  people,  the  result  of  the  recent  influx 
from  Richmond.  Riding  up  Main  Street  to  the  princi- 
pal hotel,  I  learned  that  President  Davis  was  domiciled 
at  the  home  of  Major  Sutherlin,  and  thither  I  directed 
my  course.  The  house  stands  upon  Main  Street,  near 
the  crest  of  a  steep  hill.  As  I  approached,  I  saw  that  it 
was  brilliantly  illuminated.  A  sentry  at  the  yard  gate 
challenged  me.  I  announced  my  name,  rank,  and  mis- 
sion, and  was  admitted.  At  the  door,  a  colored  man, 
whom  I  recognized  as  the  body  servant  of  the  President, 
received  me.  In  a  few  moments,  Burton  Harrison  ap- 
peared, giving  me  a  kindly  greeting,  and  saying  that  the 
President  and  his  Cabinet  were  then  holding  a  session 
in  the  dining-room,  and  desired  me  to  enter  and  make 
my  report.  I  laughed,  drew  forth  the  short  note  of  Gen- 
eral Lee  to  the  President,  and  remarked  that  my  dis- 
patches were  for  the  most  part  oral. 

I  felt  rather  embarrassed  by  such  a  distinguished 
audience,  but  Mr.  Davis  soon  put  me  at  ease.  In  his 
book  he  mentions  my  coming,  but,  after  the  long  interval 
between  1865  and  the  time  at  which  it  was  written,  he 
had  forgotten,  if  indeed  he  ever  knew,  that  I  had  been 


THE   END  445 

sent  by  him  to  General  Lee.  Probably  he  never  learned 
what  name  General  Walker  inserted  in  the  blank  order 
sent,  when  he  requested  the  detail  of  an  officer  to  commu- 
nicate with  General  Lee.  At  any  rate,  I  was  the  first 
person  who  had  brought  him  any  direct  news  from  Gen- 
eral Lee  since  his  departure  from  Richmond. 

Those  present,  as  I  remember  them,  were,  besides  the 
President  and  Burton  Harrison,  Mr.  Benjamin,  General 
Breckinridge,  Secretary  Mallory,  Secretary  Reagan,  per- 
haps General  Bragg,  and  several  others  whom  I  did  not 
know,  or  do  not  recall.  They  sat  around  a  large  dining- 
table,  and  I  stood  at  the  end  opposite  Mr.  Davis.  He 
was  exceedingly  considerate,  requested  me  to  make  my 
report,  which  I  did  as  briefly  as  possible,  and  then  asked 
me  a  number  of  questions.  When  he  had  done  examin- 
ing me,  several  others  of  the  party  made  inquiries.  One 
thing  I  remember  vividly.  Somebody  inquired  how 
many  efficient  troops  I  thought  General  Lee  had  left. 
I  was  prepared  for  this  question  to  the  extent  of  having 
tried  to  conjecture.  In  doing  so,  I  had  assumed  that  at 
the  time  he  started  from  Petersburg  he  had  nearly  one 
hundred  thousand  men.  That  was  the  popular  impres- 
sion. With  this  in  my  mind  as  a  basic  figure,  I  believed 
that  his  army  had  dwindled  to  one  third  of  its  number 
when  it  left  Petersburg ;  and  so  I  ventured  the  opinion 
that  he  might  still  have  thirty  thousand  effective  men, 
although  I  was  cautious  enough  to  add  that  Mahone's 
and  Field's  divisions  were  the  only  two  that  I  had  seen 
which  seemed  to  be  intact  and  to  have  preserved  their 
organization.  When  I  said  thirty  thousand,  I  thought  I 
detected  a  smile  of  sad  incredulity  on  several  faces  ;  and 
I  have  often  wondered  since  how  much  that  statement 
detracted  from  the  weight  attached  to  my  report  in  other 
respects. 


446  THE  END   OF  AN  ERA 

One  question  I  answered  as  I  felt.  "  Do  you  think 
General  Lee  will  be  able  to  reach  a  point  of  safety  with 
his  army?  " 

"  I  regret  to  say,  no.  From  what  I  saw  and  heard,  I 
am  satisfied  that  General  Lee  must  surrender.  It  may 
be  that  he  has  done  so  to-day.  In  my  opinion,  Mr.  Presi- 
dent, it  is  only  a  question  of  a  few  days  at  furthest,  and, 
if  I  may  be  permitted  to  add  a  word,  I  think  the  sooner 
the  better ;  for,  after  seeing  what  I  have  seen  of  the  two 
armies,  I  believe  the  result  is  inevitable,  and  postponing 
the  day  means  only  the  useless  effusion  of  noble,  gallant 
blood." 

I  am  sure  none  of  them  had  heard  such  a  plain  state- 
ment of  this  unwelcome  truth  before.  I  remember  the 
expression  of  face  —  almost  a  shudder  —  with  which 
what  I  said  was  received.  I  saw  that,  however  convinced 
they  might  be  of  the  truth  of  it,  it  was  not  a  popular 
speech  to  make. 

Mr.  Davis  asked  me  to  remain.  He  said  that  he  wished 
to  talk  with  me  further.  While  I  was  waiting  for  him 
in  the  hallway,  Major  Sutherlin,  who  had  known  me 
from  childhood,  beckoned  to  me  and  asked,  "  Are  n't  you 
hungry  after  your  ride  ?  " 

I  grinned.     I  was  always  hungry  then. 

"Jim,"  quoth  the  major,  "see  if  you  can't  get  some- 
thing for  the  lieutenant  to  eat." 

Jim  went  out,  but  in  a  few  minutes  returned,  and,  bow- 
ing, invited  me  into  a  butler's  pantry.  He  apologized  for 
the  place,  and  explained  that  the  house  was  so  crowded 
he  had  nowhere  else  to  spread  the  repast.  He  had  pro- 
vided milk,  corn-coffee,  butter  and  rolls,  and  cold  turkey. 
I  said,  "  Jim,  shut  up.  You  know  I  am  not  used  to  as 
good  as  this."  With  that  I  tossed  off  a  glass  of  milk, 
swallowed  a  cup  of  coffee,  and,  opening  my  haversack, 


THE   END  447 

tumbled  the  butter  and  rolls  and  turkey-legs  into  it,  and 
buttoned  it  up.  Jim  stood  there,  highly  amused  at  the 
short  shrift  I  made  of  his  feast,  and  remarked,  "  You  's  a 
fust-class  forager,  ain't  you,  lieutenant?"  "Yes,"  I  re- 
sponded. "  You  must  keep  fire  in  the  box,  Jim,  if  you 
want  the  engine  to  run.  Now  I  'm  ready  for  the  Presi- 
dent." 

I  slipped  back  into  the  hallway,  and  sat  down  to  wait 
until  the  President  should  call  me.  In  a  little  while  the 
conference  broke  up,  and  he  came  to  the  door.  "Now, 
lieutenant,  I  '11  see  you,"  and  he  led  the  way  into  the 
drawing-room ;  there  we  had  a  long  talk,  I  going  more 
into  details. 

At  the  close  of  our  conversation,  he  sat  for  some  time 
peering  into  the  gloom  outside,  and  finally  broke  the 
silence  by  saying,  "  You  seem  to  know  the  roads.  Do 
you  feel  equal  to  another  trip  ?  " 

"  Assuredly,"  I  answered.  "  I  now  have  a  relay  of 
horses,  and  am  more  than  glad  to  serve  in  any  way  I 
can." 

"  Very  well,"  said  he.  "  Leave  your  horse  in  Major 
Sutherlin's  stable,  so  that  it  will  be  well  fed,  and  report 
for  orders  to-morrow  morning  at  eight  o'clock." 

I  took  the  mare  to  the  stable.  It  looked  so  inviting 
that  I  clambered  up  a  ladder  to  the  loft,  opened  my 
haversack,  enjoyed  Major  Sutherlin's  food,  placed  some 
hay  under  me  and  drew  some  over  me,  and  had  a  glori- 
ous night's  rest. 

When  I  reported  next  morning,  the  President  did  not 
ask  at  what  hotel  I  was  stopping.  I  received  my  return 
dispatches,  and  I  set  forth  to  rejoin  General  Lee.  Appre- 
hending the  probability  of  my  capture,  Mr.  Davis  gave 
me  a  brief  letter  of  credentials,  and  said  that  I  would 
explain  his  wishes. 


448  THE   END   OF  AN  ERA 

Upon  the  same  day  that  General  Lee  surrendered  at 
Appomattox  (April  9),  I  reached  Halifax  Court  House 
on  the  return  trip.  My  brother  Richard  was  there,  with 
his  own  horse  and  the  horse  that  my  father  had  lent  the 
wounded  man.  They  had  been  cut  off  at  Sailors'  Creek 
and  forced  southward.  The  enemy,  flanking  General  Lee, 
had  advanced  by  moving  at  least  ten  miles  beyond  Sailors' 
Creek,  thus  rendering  it  impossible  for  them  to  rejoin 
General  Lee  except  by  going  through  the  Union  lines. 
My  brother  was  greatly  perplexed  concerning  the  course 
he  should  pursue,  and  after  we  had  discussed  the  matter, 
he  resolved  to  leave  one  of  the  horses  and  to  go  back 
with  me.  Monday  morning  we  resumed  the  journey ; 
and  that  afternoon  we  met  the  first  of  our  -  men,  who, 
paroled  at  Appomattox  the  day  before,  were  mournfully 
wending  their  way  homeward. 

Upon  hearing  of  the  surrender,  we  turned  back  toward 
Danville  to  report  to  President  Davis  the  failure  of  my  mis- 
sion. On  arriving  there,  we  learned  that  he  had  left  the 
place,  and  gone  to  Greensboro,  North  Carolina.  From 
the  paroled  men  we  met,  we  ascertained  that  our  father 
was  safe.  We  resolved  to  join  Johnston's  army.  After 
leaving  Danville,  two  days'  ride  brought  us  to  Greens- 
boro, and  there  we  found  Johnston's  forces.  We  reported 
to  Major-General  Carter  Stevenson,  commanding  a  divi- 
sion of  infantry.  General  Stevenson  was  a  Virginian, 
one  of  the  few  in  that  army.  A  cousin  of  ours  was  on 
his  staff.  The  army  was  bivouacked  in  and  about  the 
town  of  Greensboro,  awaiting  the  result  of  negotiations 
for  its  surrender.  Men  and  officers  alike  understood  this, 
and  there  was  a  general  relaxation  of  discipline. 

We  were  among  the  first  to  arrive  from  Lee's  army. 
General  Stevenson  gave  us  a  cordial  welcome.  We  told 
him  we  had  not  been  captured,  and  had  come  to  serve 


THE   END  449 

under  him.  He  asked  us  what  we  wished  to  do.  We  re- 
plied that  we  were  ready  to  serve  in  any  capacity  in  which 
we  could  be  useful ;  I  added  facetiously  that  I  was  not 
much  of  a  lieutenant  anyhow,  and  none  too  good  for  a 
private.  On  our  way,  we  had  seriously  discussed  the  for- 
mation of  a  command  composed  of  officers  of  Lee's  army 
who  had  escaped  from  the  surrender.  Inviting  us  to 
make  his  headquarters  our  home  until  something  definite 
was  concluded,  General  Stevenson  said,  with  a  smile,  that 
he  feared  we  had  jumped  out  of  the  frying-pan  into  the 
fire,  and  that  Sherman  and  Johnston  were  already  confer- 
ring about  a  cessation  of  hostilities.  I  must  describe  one 
of  the  conferences  as  General  Johnston  himself  narrated 
it  many  yeurs  afterward. 

One  cold  winter  night  about  1880,  Captain  Edwin 
Harvie,  of  General  Johnston's  staff,  invited  me  to  join 
him  in  a  call  upon  the  general,  who  was  then  living  in 
Richmond.  Harvie  was  one  of  his  pets,  and  we  were 
promptly  admitted  to  his  presence.  He  sat  in  an  arm- 
chair in  his  library,  dressed  in  a  flannel  wrapper,  and  was 
suffering  from  an  influenza.  By  his  side,  upon  a  low 
stool,  stood  a  tray  with  whiskey,  glasses,  spoons,  sugar, 
lemon,  spice,  and  eggs.  At  the  grate  a  footman  held  a 
brass  teakettle  of  boiling  water.  Mrs.  Johnston  was  pre- 
paring hot  Tom-and-Jerry  for  the  old  gentleman,  and  he 
took  it  from  time  to  time  with  no  sign  of  objection  or 
resistance.  It  was  snowing  outside,  and  the  scene  within 
was  very  cosy.  As  I  had  seen  him  in  public,  General 
Johnston  was  a  stiff,  uncommunicative  man,  punctilious 
and  peppery,  as  little  fellows  like  him  are  apt  to  be.  He 
reminded  me  of  a  cock  sparrow,  full  of  self-consciousness, 
and  rather  enjoying  a  peck  at  his  neighbor. 

That  night  he  was  as  warm,  comfortable,  and  commu- 
nicative as  the  kettle  singing  on  the  hob.     He  had  been 


450  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

lonesome,  and  he  greatly  enjoyed  both  the  Tom-and- 
Jerry  and  the  visitors.  Harvie  knew  how  to  draw  him 
out  on  reminiscences,  and  we  spent  a  most  delightful 
evening.  Among  other  things,  he  told  us  an  episode  of 
the  surrender,  under  promise  that  we  should  not  publish 
it  until  after  his  death. 

Johnston  had  known  Sherman  well  in  the  United  States 
army.  Their  first  interview  near  Greensboro  resulted  in 
an  engagement  to  meet  for  further  discussion  the  follow- 
ing day.  As  they  were  parting,  Johnston  remarked  :  "  By 
the  way,  Cumps,  Breckinridge,  our  Secretary  of  War,  is 
with  me.  He  is  a  very  able  fellow,  and  a  better  lawyer 
than  any  of  us.  If  there  is  no  objection,  I  will  fetch  him 
along  to-morrow." 

Bristling  up,  General  Sherman  exclaimed,  "  Secretary 
of  War !  No,  no ;  we  don't  recognize  any  civil  govern- 
ment among  you  fellows,  Joe.  No,  I  don't  want  any 
Secretary  of  War." 

"  Well,"  said  General  Johnston,  "  he  is  also  a  major- 
general  in  the  Confederate  army.  Is  there  any  objection 
to  his  presence  in  the  capacity  of  major-general  ?  " 

"  Oh !  "  quoth  Sherman,  in  his  characteristic  way, 
"  major-general !  Well,  any  major-general  you  may  bring, 
I  shall  be  glad  to  meet.  But  recollect,  Johnston,  no  Sec- 
retary of  War.     Do  you  understand  ?  " 

The  next  day,  General  Johnston,  accompanied  by 
Major-General  Breckinridge  and  others,  was  at  the  ren- 
dezvous before  Sherman. 

"  You  know  how  fond  of  his  liquor  Breckinridge  was  ?  " 
added  General  Johnston,  as  he  went  on  with  his  story. 
"  Well,  nearly  everything  to  drink  had  been  absorbed. 
For  several  days,  Breckinridge  had  found  it  difficult,  if 
not  impossible,  to  procure  liquor.  He  showed  the  effect 
of   his   enforced   abstinence.     He    was   rather   dull   and 


THE   END  451 

heavy  that  morning.  Somebody  in  Danville  had  given 
him  a  plug  of  very  fine  chewing  tobacco,  and  he  chewed 
vigorously  while  we  were  awaiting  Sherman's  coming. 
After  a  while,  the  latter  arrived.  He  bustled  in  with  a 
pair  of  saddlebags  over  his  arm,  and  apologized  for  being 
late.  He  placed  the  saddlebags  carefully  upon  a  chair. 
Introductions  followed,  and  for  a  while  General  Sherman 
made  himself  exceedingly  agreeable.  Finally,  some  one 
suggested  that  we  had  better  take  up  the  matter  in  hand. 

"  '  Yes,'  said  Sherman ;  '  but,  gentlemen,  it  occurred 
to  me  that  perhaps  you  were  not  overstocked  with  liquor, 
and  I  procured  some  medical  stores  on  my  way  over. 
Will  you  join  me  before  we  begin  work  ?  '  " 

General  Johnston  said  he  watched  the  expression  of 
Breckinridge  at  this  announcement,  and  it  was  beatific. 
Tossing  his  quid  into  the  fire,  he  rinsed  his  mouth,  and 
when  the  bottle  and  the  glass  were  passed  to  him,  he 
poured  out  a  tremendous  drink,  which  he  swallowed  with 
great  satisfaction.  With  an  air  of  content,  he  stroked  his 
mustache  and  took  a  fresh  chew  of  tobacco. 

Then  they  settled  down  to  business,  and  Breckinridge 
never  shone  more  brilliantly  than  he  did  in  the  discus- 
sions which  followed.  He  seemed  to  have  at  his  tongue's 
end  every  rule  and  maxim  of  international  and  constitu- 
tional law,  and  of  the  laws  of  war,  —  international  wars, 
civil  wars,  and  wars  of  rebellion.  In  fact,  he  was  so  re- 
sourceful, cogent,  persuasive,  learned,  that,  at  one  stage 
of  the  proceedings,  General  Sherman,  when  confronted 
by  the  authority,  but  not  convinced  by  the  eloquence 
or  learning  of  Breckinridge,  pushed  back  his  chair  and 
exclaimed  :  "  See  here,  gentlemen,  who  is  doing  this  sur- 
rendering anyhow  ?  If  this  thing  goes  on,  you  '11  have 
me  sending  a  letter  of  apology  to  Jeff  Davis." 

Afterward,  when  they  were  nearing  the  close  of  the 


452  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

conference,  Sherman  sat  for  some  time  absorbed  in  deep 
thought.  Then  he  arose,  went  to  the  saddlebags,  and 
fumbled  for  the  bottle.  Breckinridge  saw  the  movement. 
Again  he  took  his  quid  from  his  mouth  and  tossed  it  into 
the  fireplace.  His  eye  brightened,  and  he  gave  every 
evidence  of  intense  interest  in  what  Sherman  seemed 
about  to  do. 

The  latter,  preoccupied,  perhaps  unconscious  of  his 
action,  poured  out  some  liquor,  shoved  the  bottle  back 
into  the  saddle-pocket,  walked  to  the  window,  and  stood 
there,  looking  out  abstractedly,  while  he  sipped  his  grog. 

From  pleasant  hope  and  expectation  the  expression  on 
Breckinridge's  face  changed  successively  to  uncertainty, 
disgust,  and  deep  depression.  At  last  his  hand  sought 
the  plug  of  tobacco,  and,  with  an  injured,  sorrowful  look, 
he  cut  off  another  chew.  Upon  this  he  ruminated  during 
the  remainder  of  the  interview,  taking  little  part  in  what 
was  said. 

After  silent  reflections  at  the  window,  General  Sher- 
man bustled  back,  gathered  up  his  papers,  and  said : 
"  These  terms  are  too  generous,  but  I  must  hurry  away 
before  you  make  me  sign  a  capitulation.  I  will  submit 
them  to  the  authorities  at  Washington,  and  let  you  hear 
how  they  are  received."  With  that  he  bade  the  assem- 
bled officers  adieu,  took  his  saddlebags  upon  his  arm,  and 
went  off  as  he  had  come. 

General  Johnston  took  occasion,  as  they  left  the  house 
and  were  drawing  on  their  gloves,  to  ask  General  Breck- 
inridge how  he  had  been  impressed  by  Sherman. 

"  Sherman  is  a  bright  man,  and  a  man  of  great  force," 
replied  Breckinridge,  speaking  with  deliberation,  "  but," 
raising  his  voice  and  with  a  look  of  great  intensity,  "  Gen- 
eral Johnston,  General  Sherman  is  a  hog.  Yes,  sir,  a 
hog.     Did  you  see  him  take  that  drink  by  himself  ?  " 


THE  END  453 

General  Johnston  tried  to  assure  General  Breckinridge 
that  General  Sherman  was  a  royal  good  fellow,  but  the 
most  absent-minded  man  in  the  world.  He  told  him  that 
the  failure  to  offer  him  a  drink  was  the  highest  compli- 
ment that  could  have  been  paid  to  the  masterly  arguments 
with  which  he  had  pressed  the  Union  commander  to  that 
state  of  abstraction. 

"  Ah ! "  protested  the  big  Kentuckian,  half  sighing, 
half  grieving,  "  no  Kentucky  gentleman  would  ever  have 
taken  away  that  bottle.  He  knew  we  needed  it,  and 
needed  it  badly." 

The  story  was  well  told,  and  I  did  not  make  it  public 
until  after  General  Johnston's  death.  On  one  occasion, 
being  intimate  with  General  Sherman,  I  repeated  it  to 
him.  Laughing  heartily,  he  said :  "I  don't  remember 
it.  But  if  Joe  Johnston  told  it,  it 's  so.  Those  fellows 
hustled  me  so  that  day,  I  was  sorry  for  the  drink  I  did 
give  them,"  and  with  that  sally  he  broke  out  into  fresh 
laughter. 

While  these  scenes  were  being  enacted,  Johnston's  army 
lay  about  Greensboro,  and  I  saw  a  great  deal  of  the  men 
and  the  officers.  I  will  not  attempt  a  comparison  between 
its  personnel  and  that  of  Lee's  army.  I  was  a  prejudiced 
observer,  and  such  comparisons  can  produce  no  good 
results.  But  I  am  free  to  say,  from  what  I  saw,  then  and 
thereafter,  of  Sherman's  army,  that  I  believe  it  was  a 
better  army  than  that  of  General  Grant.  If  Lee's  army 
and  Sherman's  had  come  together  when  they  were  at  their 
best,  the  world  would  have  witnessed  some  very  memo- 
rable fighting.  The  spirit  of  General  Johnston's  men  was 
much  finer  than,  under  the  circumstances,  anybody  would 
have  expected.  They  were  defiant,  and  more  than  ready 
to  try  conclusions  with  Sherman  in  a  pitched  battle. 
Many  expressed  disgust  and  indignation  when  the  sur- 


454  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

render  of  the  army  was  announced.  An  epidemic  of 
drunkenness,  gambling,  and  fighting  prevailed  while  we 
were  waiting  for  our  final  orders.  Whatever  difficulty- 
General  Breckinridge  may  have  experienced  in  procuring 
liquor,  the  soldiers  seemed  to  have  an  abundance  of  color- 
less corn-whiskey  and  applejack,  and  the  roadsides  were 
lined  with  "  chuck-a-luck  "  games.  The  amount  of  Con- 
federate money  displayed  was  marvelous.  Men  had  it 
by  the  haversackful,  and  bet  it  recklessly  upon  anything. 
The  ill-temper  begotten  by  drinking  and  gambling  mani- 
fested itself  almost  hourly  in  free  fights. 

During  this  period  of  waiting  came  the  news  of  the 
assassination  of  Mr.  Lincoln.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  chroni- 
cle that  the  announcement  was  received  with  demonstra- 
tions of  sorrow.  If  I  did,  I  should  be  lying  for  senti- 
ment's sake.  Among  the  higher  officers  and  the  most 
intelligent  and  conservative  men,  the  assassination  caused 
a  shudder  of  horror  at  the  heinousness  of  the  act,  and  at 
the  thought  of  its  possible  consequences  ;  but  among  the 
thoughtless,  the  desperate,  and  the  ignorant,  it  was  hailed 
as  a  sort  of  retributive  justice.  In  maturer  years  I  have 
been  ashamed  of  what  I  felt  and  said  when  I  heard  of 
that  awful  calamity.  However,  men  ought  to  be  judged 
for  their  feelings  and  their  speech  by  the  circumstances 
of  their  surroundings.  For  four  years  we  had  been  fight- 
ing. In  that  struggle,  all  we  loved  had  been  lost.  Lin- 
coln incarnated  to  us  the  idea  of  oppression  and  conquest. 
We  had  seen  his  face  over  the  coffins  of  our  brothers  and 
relatives  and  friends,  in  the  flames  of  Richmond,  in  the 
disaster  at  Appomattox.  In  blood  and  flame  and  torture 
the  temples  of  our  lives  were  tumbling  about  our  heads. 
We  were  desperate  and  vindictive,  and  whosoever  denies 
it  forgets  or  is  false.  We  greeted  his  death  in  a  spirit  of 
reckless  hate,  and  hailed  it  as  bringing  agony  and  bitter- 


THE   END  455 

ness  to  those  who  were  the  cause  of  our  own  agony  and 
bitterness.  To  us,  Lincoln  was  an  inhuman  monster, 
Grant  a  butcher,  and  Sherman  a  fiend. 

Time  taught  us  that  Lincoln  was  a  man  of  marvelous 
humanity,  Appomattox  and  what  followed  revealed  Grant 
in  his  matchless  magnanimity,  and  the  bitterness  toward 
Sherman  was  softened  in  subsequent  years.  But,  with  our 
feelings  then,  if  the  news  had  come  that  all  three  of  these 
had  been  engulfed  in  a  common  disaster  with  ourselves, 
we  should  have  felt  satisfaction  in  the  fact,  and  should 
not  have  questioned  too  closely  how  it  had  been  brought 
about.  We  were  poor,  starved,  conquered,  despairing; 
and  to  expect  men  to  have  no  malice  and  no  vindictive- 
ness  at  such  a  time  is  to  look  for  angels  in  human  form. 
Thank  God,  such  feelings  do  not  last  long,  at  least  in 
their  fiercest  intensity. 

The  army  moved  westward  to  a  place  named  Jimtown, 
since  dignified  as  Jamestown.  There  we  were  all  paroled. 
We  received  one  dollar  and  fifteen  cents  each.  Of  this, 
one  dollar  was  in  Mexican  coin.  I  cut  my  initials  upon 
my  dollar,  but  it  was  stolen  from  my  pocket  the  next  day. 
We  were  ready  to  disperse  to  our  homes.  Our  headquar- 
ters were  in  a  tent. 

That  night  we  had  our  last  army  fright.  By  some 
means,  a  rumor  had  become  prevalent  that  certain  officers 
had  distributed  among  themselves  bolts  of  valuable  cloth 
far  beyond  their  own  needs,  leaving  the  soldiers  ragged. 
The  men  formed  bands,  declaring  they  would  ransack  the 
officers'  wagons  and  have  this  cloth.  A  friendly  fellow 
brought  us  the  news  that  one  of  these  parties  was  ap- 
proaching to  search  General  Stevenson's  headquarters 
wagon.  Major  Reeve,  of  the  staff,  indignant  at  such  an 
accusation,  but  more  indignant  at  the  proposed  insult  to 
his  commanding  officer,  swore  he  would  die  rather  than 


456  THE   END   OF   AN   ERA 

submit  to  such  ignominy.  He  called  upon  us  to  defend 
our  manhood.  Of  course  we  were  ready.  Armed  only 
with  our  swords  and  revolvers,  we  were  deployed  by  him 
behind  trees.  It  was  moonlight.  We  could  see  the  raid- 
ers coming  through  the  woods.  When  within  thirty  yards, 
they  halted.  Major  Reeve,  who  was  as  gallant  as  he  was 
impetuous,  challenged,  and  asked  what  they  wanted.  A 
leader  replied.  "  Are  you  men  soldiers  of  Stevenson's 
division  ?  "  inquired  Reeve.  On  learning  that  they  were, 
he  proceeded  to  deliver  an  address  which,  for  eloquence, 
pathos,  and  defiance,  was  as  fine  as  anything  I  ever 
heard. 

He  reproached  them  for  thinking  for  an  instant  that 
such  a  base  rumor  could  be  true.  He  reminded  them  of 
the  days  when  he  had  led  them,  and  they  were  touched 
by  his  references  to  their  common  struggles  and  common 
sufferings.  He  asked  them  what  General  Stevenson  or 
any  of  his  staff  had  ever  done  to  deserve  this  distrust  or 
justify  this  degrading  search.  Finally,  he  told  them  that  if 
they  still  persisted,  but  one  course  was  left  to  us,  and  that 
was  to  die  at  the  hands  of  our  own  men  rather  than  sub- 
mit tamely  to  such  dishonor.  We  who  were  deployed 
behind  the  trees  felt  that  we  were  in  a  ticklish  place. 
Reeve  was  exalted  by  his  own  oratory.  We  were  trying 
to  count  the  number  of  our  assailants.  For  a  moment 
after  he  finished  speaking  there  was  a  dead  silence,  a  very 
awkward  silence.  Then  a  voice  shouted,  "  Three  cheers 
for  Major  Reeve  !  "  They  were  given  with  a  hearty  good- 
will, followed  by  cheers  for  everybody.  The  marauders 
broke,  crowded  around  Reeve,  and  hugged  and  wept  over 
him,  and  we  sneaked  back  to  the  tent,  much  relieved  that 
this  particular  phase  of  the  war  was  over. 

The  next  day,  the  Army  of  the  Tennessee  dissolved.  To 
every  point  of  the  compass  its  officers  and  men  dispersed. 


THE   END  457 

Our  course  was  directed  to  Danville.  We  did  not  en- 
counter any  Union  forces  until  we  approached  that  place. 
Then  we  saw  mounted  Union  pickets  outlined  against  the 
sky,  at  the  top  of  the  hill.  They  looked  just  as  we  had 
often  seen  them  before.  It  was  hard  to  realize  that  they 
would  not  fire  upon  us,  and  gallop  away  to  give  the  alarm. 
It  was  equally  hard  to  realize  that  we  soon  should  pass 
them  and  be  within  the  Union  lines.  In  we  went,  giving 
and  receiving  salutes.  For  the  first  time,  we  were  in  the 
midst  of  a  body  of  Union  soldiers.  What  we  felt  then  is 
not  important. 

A  week  later,  having  been  to  Halifax  to  return  to  her 
owner  the  finest  mare  I  ever  bestrode,  I  boarded  a  train 
for  Richmond,  the  brass  buttons  on  my  uniform  covered 
with  black,  a  fit  badge  of  mourning  for  the  dead  Confed- 
eracy. The  cars  were  crowded  with  Union  soldiers  and 
negroes  flocking  to  the  towns.  The  bearing  of  the  Union 
officers  and  soldiers  toward  Confederates  was,  with  few 
exceptions,  extremely  civil  and  conciliatory.  One  fellow 
was  so  kind  that,  after  he  had  offered  me  money,  which  I 
refused,  he  slipped  it  into  my  pocket  with  a  card  saying, 
"  This  is  not  a  gift,  but  a  loan,  and  when  you  are  able 
you  can  return  it  to  me."  I  did  subsequently  return  it, 
but  never  forgot  his  delicate  attention. 

The  bridges  across  the  James  at  Richmond  had  all  been 
destroyed.  Our  train  stopped  at  Manchester,  opposite 
Richmond.  Thence  we  were  compelled  to  proceed  to  the 
city  by  way  of  a  pontoon  bridge  thrown  across  the  river 
at  the  lower  end  of  Mayo's  Island.  At  the  Manchester 
terminus,  we  found  a  number  of  improvised  vehicles,  — 
wagons,  ambulances,  etc.,  —  with  improvised  drivers,  too, 
seeking  passengers  to  carry  over  the  bridge.  These  driv- 
ers were  in  many  instances  my  old  army  comrades.  One 
of  them  was  Colonel  George ,  a  former  schoolmate, 


458  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

not  five  years  older  than  myself,  a  man  of  the  highest  so- 
cial standing,  a  young  soldier  of  distinguished  gallantry, 
who  a  month  before  had  commanded  one  of  the  best  regi- 
ments in  Lee's  army.  It  was  pathetic,  the  sight  of  those 
army  boys,  with  their  war-horses  converted  into  teams, 
trying  to  earn  an  honest  penny  to  feed  the  folks  at  home. 
I  saw  George  stand  at  the  rear  of  the  ambulance  that 
he  drove,  open  the  door,  collect  the  fares  from  the  sleek 
Union  commissaries  and  quartermasters  who  patronized 
him,  mount  his  box,  and  drive  away  as  humbly  as  if  that 
business  had  been,  and  was  to  be,  his  lifelong  occupation. 

It  was  fortunate  for  our  boys  that  the  negroes,  who 
until  now  had  done  this  class  of  work,  were  so  elated  by 
their  freedom  that  they  had  performed  no  sort  of  labor 
since  the  evacuation.  They  had  thronged  the  city,  but 
not  for  work.  The  weather  was  warm,  and  they  were 
living  in  all  kinds  of  makeshift  habitations,  ofttimes  in 
the  ruins  of  burned  buildings,  procuring  food  from  the 
Freedmen's  Bureau,  and  spending  their  time  in  the  Capi- 
tol Square,  where  the  older  ones  shouted  and  sang  for 
hours,  and  the  children  played  at  games. 

I  was  too  poor  to  indulge  in  the  luxury  of  a  ride,  and 
young  and  strong  enough  to  walk  to  town.  Slinging  our 
knapsacks,  a  party  of  us  walked  across  the  pontoon,  lift- 
ing our  eyes  from  time  to  time  to  the  grinning  ruins  before 
us.  It  was  past  noon  ;  the  day  was  warm,  and  the  sun 
was  bright.  It  revealed,  without  concealing  anything 
from  us,  the  complete  destruction  of  the  business  portion 
of  the  town.     Through  these  ruins  we  wended  our  way. 

The  hand  of  reconstruction  was  already  stretched  forth. 
Men  were  engaged  in  pulling  down  walls  and  cleaning 
bricks.  Already  mortar  beds  had  been  built  in  the 
streets,  puddlers  were  at  work,  and,  where  work  had  pro- 
gressed far  enough,  foundations  were  being  laid  anew. 


THE  END  459 

The  streets  were  already  burdened  with  lumber  for  joists 
and  woodwork,  and  every  evidence  was  given  of  a  rebuild- 
ing of  the  town.  Nearly  all  the  laborers  were  white  men. 
Many  of  them  I  knew  well,  —  men  of  as  good  social  posi- 
tion as  my  own  ;  soldiers  come  home  and  resolved  not  to 
be  idle,  but  to  work  for  an  honest  living  in  any  way  in 
which  they  could  make  it.  Sitting  in  the  sun  with  their 
trowels,  jabbing  away  in  awkward  fashion  at  their  new 
and  unaccustomed  tasks,  covered  with  dust  and  plaster, 
they  were  the  same  bright,  cheerful  fellows  who  had 
learned  to  labor  in  that  state  of  life  to  which  it  had 
pleased  God  to  call  them,  just  as  they  had  been  willing 
followers,  in  sunshine  and  in  storm,  of  their  beloved  Lee. 
At  night,  with  their  day's  wages  in  their  pockets,  they 
would  go  home,  change  their  clothing,  take  a  bath,  and 
associate  with  their  families,  —  not  at  all  ashamed  of  their 
labors,  but  making  a  joke  of  their  newly  discovered 
method  of  earning  a  sustenance.  With  all  the  hardship 
of  such  unaccustomed  work,  it  was  the  best  and  most 
comfortable  and  least  dangerous  employment  that  they 
had  been  engaged  in  for  years.  Richmond  rose  from  her 
ashes,  and  soon  became,  in  great  part  by  their  efforts,  a 
more  beautiful  city  than  ever  before. 

Passing  through  the  business  portion  of  the  town,  we 
reached  the  residential  section,  which  was  still  intact. 
The  trees  were  in  full  leaf.  They  cast  their  deep  shadows 
everywhere,  and  a  Sabbath  stillness  pervaded  the  streets, 
strangely  in  contrast  with  the  air  of  busy  life  always  pre- 
sented when  Richmond  was  the  crowded  and  beleaguered 
capital.  Few  men  and  no  women  were  upon  the  streets. 
Business  had  not  been  resumed,  and  the  presence  of 
Union  soldiers  and  great  numbers  of  negroes  made  women 
cautious  about  venturing  forth  unattended. 

I  had  no  home.     The  nearest  approach  to  one  was  that 


460  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

of  ray  brother-in-law,  Dr.  Garnett.  There  my  mother 
and  an  unmarried  sister  were,  and  thither  I  repaired. 
My  father,  as  I  learned,  had  not  returned  to  Richmond. 
Eliza,  our  faithful  servant,  whose  kinspeople  resided  in 
Philadelphia,  had  made  a  short  visit  to  that  place,  and 
among  other  things  had  brought  back  civilian  clothes  for 
me.  They  had  been  bought  by  Philadelphia  relatives, 
who  knew  me  only  as  an  eighteen-year-old  boy,  and  the 
clothes  were  of  the  style  worn  by  Philadelphia  cousins  of 
my  own  age.  In  my  room  I  found  a  civilian's  attire  laid 
out  for  me,  and  I  proceeded  to  divest  myself  of  my  uni- 
form. For  the  first  time  in  two  years  and  eight  months, 
I  appeared  in  citizen's  dress.  The  sensation  was  peculiar. 
The  lightness  and  softness  of  the  cloth  was  delightful,  but 
the  sack  coat  and  the  straw  hat  made  me  feel  bobtailed 
and  bareheaded  ;  and  when  I  looked  in  the  glass,  instead 
of  confronting  a  striking  young  officer,  I  beheld  a  mere 
insignificant  chit  of  an  eighteen-year-old  boy.  Nothing 
brought  home  to  me  more  vividly  the  fact  that  the  stun- 
ning events  of  the  last  month  had  ended  the  career  on 
which  I  had  started,  and  that  I  had  received  a  great  set- 
back in  manhood.  This  feeling  was  emphasized  when 
some  one  startled  me  by  asking  where  I  was  going  to 
school. 

The  house  had  a  broad  veranda.  That  evening  we  sat 
upon  it,  after  tea,  quiet  and  sad,  but  enjoying  the  refresh- 
ing air  and  sense  of  peace.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the 
street  lived  a  family  consisting  of  a  mother  and  several 
handsome  daughters.  They  had  been  such  ardent  Con- 
federates that  they  had  been  sent  out  of  Alexandria  into 
the  Confederate  lines  by  the  Union  commander.  That 
they  were  still  loyal  Confederates  we  never  had  reason  to 
doubt  until  we  saw  a  party  of  young  Union  officers  ride 
up,  followed  by  their  orderlies.     We  felt  sure  they  had 


THE  END  461 

come  to  arrest  the  occupants  of  that  house.  Imagine  our 
surprise,  therefore,  when,  in  a  few  moments,  we  saw  the 
lights  go  up  in  the  drawing-rooms,  and  discovered  that 
this  was  a  social  call.  One  of  the  girls  was  soon  banging 
away  on  the  piano  and  singing  to  her  admirers.  The 
voices  of  hilarity,  the  sounds  of  mirth  and  music,  horrified 
us.  We  looked  upon  the  conduct  of  those  girls,  in  mak- 
ing merry,  singing,  playing,  and  receiving  the  attentions 
of  Union  officers,  as  grossly  indelicate,  heartless  to  our 
dead  and  to  us,  and  treason  to  their  Confederate  comrades. 
It  was  years  before  they  regained  social  recognition  in  the 
community.  Their  faithlessness  to  the  lost  cause  chilled 
my  heart,  and  was  a  fresh  reminder  that  the  cause  was 
dead. 

That  night  I  tossed  upon  my  bed,  reflecting  on  the 
past,  contemplating  the  present,  speculating  as  to  the 
future.  The  next  morning  I  arose,  and  before  breakfast 
I  wrote  my  will,  as  follows  :  — 

I,  J.  Eeb.,  being  of  unsound  mind  and  bitter  memory, 
and  aware  that  I  am  dead,  do  make,  publish,  and  declare 
the  following  to  be  my  political  last  will  and  testament. 

1.  I  give,  devise,  and  bequeath  all  my  slaves  to  Harriet 
Beecher  Stowe. 

2.  My  rights  in  the  territories  I  direct  shall  be  assigned 
and  set  over,  together  with  the  bricabrac  known  as  State 

Sovereignty,  to  the  Hon.  J E, T ,  to  play 

with  for  the  remainder  of  his  life,  and  remainder  to  his 
son  after  his  death. 

3.  I  direct  that  all  my  shares  in  the  venture  of  seces- 
sion shall  be  canceled,  provided  I  am  released  from  my 
unpaid  subscription  to  the  stock  of  said  enterprise. 

4.  My  interest  in  the  civil  government  of  the  Confed- 
eracy I  bequeath  to  any  freak  museum  that  may  here- 
after be  established. 


462  THE   END   OF  AN   ERA 

5.  My  sword,  my  veneration  for  General  Robert  E. 
Lee,  his  subordinate  commanders  and  his  peerless  soldiers, 
and  my  undying  love  for  my  old  comrades,  living  and 
dead,  I  set  apart  as  the  best  I  have,  or  shall  ever  have,  to 
bequeath  to  my  heirs  forever. 

6.  And  now,  being  dead,  having  experienced  a  death 
to  Confederate  ideas  and  a  new  birth  unto  allegiance  to 
the  Union,  I  depart,  with  a  vague  but  not  definite  hope 
of  a  joyful  resurrection,  and  of  a  new  life,  upon  lines 
somewhat  different  from  those  of  the  last  eighteen  years. 
I  see  what  has  been  pulled  down  very  clearly.  What  is 
to  be  built  up  in  its  place  I  know  not.  It  is  a  mystery  ; 
but  death  is  always  mysterious.     Amen. 

I  read  this  will  at  the  breakfast-table.  It  amused  the 
family,  but  with  me  it  was  no  joke.  I  was  dead.  Every- 
thing that  I  had  ever  believed  in  politically  was  dead. 
Everybody  that  I  had  ever  trusted  or  relied  upon  politi- 
cally was  dead.  My  beloved  State  of  Virginia  was  dis- 
membered, and  a  new  State  had  been  erected  out  of  a 
part  of  her,  against  her  will.  Every  hope  that  I  had  ever 
indulged  was  dead.  Even  the  manhood  I  had  attained 
was  dead.  I  was  a  boy  again,  a  mere  child,  —  precocious, 
ignorant,  conceited,  and  unformed.  I  had  set  my  heart 
and  soul  on  the  career  of  a  soldier.  What  hope  was  left 
for  that  ?  The  night's  reflections  had  made  all  these 
things  clear  as  never  before.  Boy  as  I  was,  I  felt  it  as 
keenly  as  did  the  embittered  Moor  when,  in  his  agony,  he 
exclaimed  :  — 

' '  Farewell  the  plumed  troop,  and  the  big  wars, 
That  make  ambition  virtue  !     O,  farewell ! 
Farewell  the  neighing-  steed,  and  the  shrill  trump, 
The  spirit-stirring  drum,  the  ear-piercing  fife, 
The  royal  banner,  and  all  quality, 
Pride,  pomp,  and  circumstance  of  glorious  war  ! 


THE   END  463 

And,  0  you  mortal  engines,  whose  rude  throats 
The  immortal  Jove's  dread  clamours  counterfeit, 
Farewell !     Othello's  occupation  's  gone  !  " 

In  hopelessness  I  scanned  the  wreck,  and  then  —  I  went 
back  to  school. 


In  June,  1865,  a  boy  named  John  Sergeant  Wise,  a 
visitor  at  the  home  of  his  uncle,  General  Meade,  in  Phil- 
adelphia, was  a  witness  of  the  triumphant  return  of  the 
armies  of  the  Union.  He  was  regarded  as  such  a  mere 
child  that  he  was  not  invited  to  the  table  when  com- 
pany came,  but  dined  with  the  other  children  in  the  nur- 
sery. A  little  later,  he  sat  in  overalls  and  a  straw  hat 
fishing  near  the  shores  of  the  blue  Chesapeake.  In  Sep- 
tember, he  was  sent  to  school.  In  October,  he  was  playing 
furiously  on  the  scrub  nine  of  his  college  baseball  team. 
Two  years  later,  he  was  admitted  to  the  practice  of  law, 
and  even  then  he  had  not  attained  his  majority. 

It  is  incredible  that  this  stripling  was  the  same  person 
as  the  young  officer  whose  observations  and  career  have 
been  chronicled  in  these  pages.  Nor  is  it  more  difficult 
now  for  the  reader  than  for  the  writer  to  realize  that  this 
narrative  is  aught  but  a  dream. 


INDEX 


Abing-don,  Va.,  373,  381. 
Abolitionists,  48,  49,  73. 
Aecawmacke,  The  Kingdom  of,  10- 

22: 
Accomack  County,  when  formed,  15. 
Alabama    Regiment,     Third,     212- 

214. 
Albemarle  County,  138. 
Albemarle  Sound,  175. 
Alexander,  colonel  of  artillery,  340. 
Allen,  Major  "  Buck,"  of  Claremont, 

409. 
Aliens  of  Tuckahoe,  the,  139. 
Allstadt,    Mr.,    captured    by    John 

Brown,  128. 
Amelia  Court  House,  416. 
American  flag,  3,  9,  50,  160,  161. 
American  party,  53. 
Anderson,   Lieutenant-Colonel,   182, 

184. 
Anderson,  Lieutenant-General,  330. 
Anderson  family,  239.  ■ 

Andrew,  Governor  John  A.,  134. 
Andrews,  Olivero,  402. 
Annamessex  Creek,  18. 
Aqueduct,  at  Rio  de  Janeiro,  102. 
Arbuckle  family,  29. 
Arlington,  Lord,  18. 
Arlington  plantation,  18. 
Army  of  Tennessee   dissolves,  456, 

457. 
Arnold  of  Rugby,  246. 
Arthur,  President  Chester  A.,  239. 
Ashby's  Landing,  182,  184. 
Ashland,  Va.,  308. 
Assassination    of    Lincoln,   how  re- 
ceived, 454,  455. 
Assawamman  Creek,  18. 
Atwill,  Cadet,  killed,  302. 
August,  Colonel  Thomas  P.,  68. 
Augusta  County,  236. 
Averill,  General,  raid  by,  272. 

Bacchante,  painting  by  Pauline  Lau- 
rent, 208,  210. 
Bagwell  family,  17. 


Bagwell,  Lieutenant  E.  R.,  431,  432. 

Balcony  Falls,  138,  234,  235,  312. 

Baltimore,  17,  30,  40. 

Baptists,  16. 

Barclays,  the,  239. 

Barksdale,  Dr.  Randolph,  69. 

Barron,  Commodore  James,  191, 192. 

Bartlett,  General,  368. 

Bartow,  General,  169. 

"  Basin  Cats,"  Richmond,  59. 

Baylor,  Colonel  R.  W„  119. 

Bayly  family,  29. 

Bearing  of  Union  officers  to  Confed- 
erates, 457. 

Beaufort,  The,  Confederate  steamer, 
196,  200,  201,  205. 

Beauregard,  General,  169,  170,  315, 
330,  361. 

Bee,  General,  169. 

Bell,  Lorenzo,  29,  31. 

Benjamin,  Judah  P.,  176-178,  401, 
445. 

Ben  McCulloch  Rangers,  186, 187. 

Benton,  Jessie,  72. 

Big  Bethel,  168. 

Big  Lick,  219. 

Bishops  Lydeard,  26. 

Black  Horse  Cavalry,  147. 

Blackstone  family,  29. 

Blandf  ord,  church  and  cemetery,  356, 
360. 

Blockade  runners,  the  nabobs,  397, 
398. 

Blue  Ridge,  138. 

Blues,  Richmond,  110,  166,  170,  186, 
1 88 

Bogg'ess,  Cadet,  258. 

Boilings  of  Boiling  Island  and  Boi- 
ling Hall,  139. 

Bombproofs,  appeal  to  soldiers  to 
fight  on,  395,  396. 

"  Bonnie  Blue  Flag  "  first  heard,  157. 

Bonsacks,  231. 

Booth,  John  Wilkes,  93,  131. 

Botafogo,  1. 

Botetourt  County,  236. 


466 


INDEX 


Bowdoin  family,  17. 

Bowman  family,  17. 

Bowman's  Folly,  seat  of  the  Crop- 
pers, 29. 

Bragg,  General  Braxton,  175,  415, 
445. 

Brandy  distilling,  216. 

Braxton,  Colonel,  340. 

Brazil,  1,  10,  17,  33. 

Breathitt,  Colonel,  340. 

Breckinridge,  General  John  C,  71, 
72,  288,  294,  401,  445,  450-453. 

Bricabrac,  at  Rolleston,  208. 

Brooke,  Captain  John  M.,  194,  195. 

Brooks,  Preston  S.,  115. 

Brown,  General,  of  Freedmen's  Bu- 
reau, 211. 

Brown,  Old  John,  75,  113,  136,  144 ; 
his  constitution,  127, 128. 

Browne  family,  17. 

Brownsville,  seat  of  Upshur  family, 
29. 

Bruton  parish  church,  26. 

Buchanan,  President  James,  71-73, 
115,  135,  170,  239. 

Buchanan,  Admiral,  194,  195,  198, 
200.  _ 

Burbridge,  General,  raid  by,  377. 

Burkeville,  Va.,  416-471,  419,  420. 

Burnside,  General  A.  E.,  352,  354, 
356.  _ 

Burnside's  expedition,  181-183. 

Butler,  General  B.  F.,  211. 

Butlers,  the  old  slave,  the  terror  of 
small  boys,  122. 

Cabell,   Cadet    Sergeant,    299,    302, 

306. 
Cabell,  Mrs.,  mules  of,  67. 
Cabells  of  Nelson,  the,  139. 
Cadet  boxes  from  home,  283,  284. 
Cadet  nicknames,  261,  262. 
Calhoun,  John  C,  239. 
California,  2. 

Campbell  family,  The,  239. 
Campbell,  Douglas,  239. 
Campbell,  Miss,  of  Louisiana,  403. 
Camp  Lee,  stationed  at,  308. 
Cape  Charles,  10,  11,  18. 
Cape  Henry,  10,  167. 
Cape  Horn,  2. 

"  Captain  Jenks  "  first  heard,  441. 
Carnifax  Ferry,  170. 
Carrington,  Major  Isaac  H.,  409. 
Carter,  Colonel  Thomas  H.,  340. 
Carvell,  John,  blockade  runner,  409. 
Cary,  Miss  Connie.  401. 
Cateti,  suburb  of  Rio  de  Janeiro,  1. 
Catholic  Church,  53. 
Chaffin's  Farm,  207. 


Chamberlayne,  Captain  J.  Hamp- 
den, 360. 

Chapel  Hill,  N.  C,  238. 

Charles  I.,  10,  17,  23. 

Charleston  Kanawha,  167. 

Charlottesville,  Va.,  138,  308. 

Charlton,  Stephen,  18. 

Chesapeake  Bay,  10,  11,  22,  27,  40, 
167,  196,  463. 

Cherrystone  Creek,  18. 

Chesconnessex  Creek,  18,  27. 

Chickahominy,  213,  214. 

Childhood  at  Only,  44^16,  52,  53. 

Childish  amusements  at  Richmond, 
70,  71. 

Chincoteague,  18. 

"Chinook,"  Captain  H.  A.  Wise, 
261. 

Christening,  8. 

Christiansburg,  Va.,  385. 

Christmas,  1-4,  7,  391. 

"  Church  Hill  Cats,"  Richmond,  59. 

Civilian  soldiers,  457,  458. 

Civilian's  clothes,  how  they  felt,  460. 

Cleveland,  President  Grover,  239. 

Climate  of  Eastern  Shore,  unsur- 
passed, 14. 

Clover  Station,  Va.,_412. 

Cocke,  General  Philip  St.  George,  of 
Belle  Mead,  139,  276. 

Cocke,  Sylvester  P.,  financier,  215, 
216. 

Cockes  of  Fluvanna,  139. 

Coehorn  mortars  at  crater  fight, 
352. 

Cold  Harbor,  308.  _ 

Coles,  Captain,  killed  at  Roanoke, 
186,  187. 

Colonna,  Cadet,  247-249. 

Colston,  General  R.  E.,  261,  268. 

Columbia,  the  frigate,  8. 

Compton  family,  239. 

Confederate  prices,  392-394. 

Confederate  reserves,  372,  391. 

Confederate  traitors,  460,  461. 

Confederate  wedding,  a,  397. 

Confederates  who  were  never  Con- 
federates, 396. 

Congress,  the  ship,  198,  199. 

Constitution,  the  ship,  48. 

Cook,  co-conspirator  with  John 
Brown,  127. 

Cooks,  of  old  time  Virginia,  un- 
equaled,  66. 

Cooper,  General  Samuel,  175. 

Corbin  family,  29. 

Cornfield  peas,  the  best  friend  of 
Confederates,  393. 

Corporal,  promoted  to,  284. 

Corps  of  cadets,  first  sight  of,  101. 


INDEX 


467 


"Country  be  d — d.     There    is    no 

country,"  434. 
Craney  Island,  164,  167,  196. 
Crater,  battle  of  the,  346-363. 
Crawford,  Thomas,  the  sculptor,  100. 
"Crazes,"  the    periodical  political, 

54. 
Creeks,  what  they  are,  18. 
Croatan  Sound,  N.  C,  181. 
Crockett,  Cadet,  killed,  302. 
Cromwell,  Oliver,  240. 
Cropper  family,  17,  129. 
Cropper,  General  John,  27. 
Cropper,  Sarah,  27. 
Cuba,   early  discussion    concerning, 

115. 
Culpeper,  Lord,  18. 
Cumberland,  the  ship,  160,  198,  199. 
Currituck  Sound,  175. 
Curtis,  the  scout,  425. 
Custis  family,  17,  29. 
Custis,  John,  18. 

Daingerfield,  Mr.,  captured  by  John 
Brown,  130. 

Dale,  Sir  Thomas,  13. 

Dale's  Gift,  13. 

Daniel,  John  M.,  171,  177. 

Danville,  Va.,  412,  433,  457. 

Davidson,  Captain  Greenlee,  burial 
of,  267. 

Davis,  President  Jefferson,  175,  214, 
260,  309,  330,  400,  401, 415,  417,  447. 

Davis,  Mrs.  President,  401. 

Dayton,  W.  L.,  candidate  for  Vice- 
President,  72. 

Deane,  Dr.  Francis  H.,  70. 

Decatur,  Commodore,  191. 

Deer,  on  John  Smith's  map,  12. 

Deering,  General  "Jim,"  337,  338. 

De  la  War,  Lord,  Thomas  West,  23. 

De  Leon,  Cooper,  402. 

De  Rtryter,  Dutch  admiral,  anec- 
dote concerning,  205. 

Deserter-hunting  in  Floyd  County, 
Va.,  385-391. 

Devonshire,  our  folks  from,  23. 

Diggs,  Governor,  grant  from,  26. 

Dimmock,  Captain  Charles,  59. 

Dimmock,  Marion,  59. 

District  of  Columbia,  119. 

"  Dixie  "  first  heard,  157. 

Domestic  luxury  great  in  South,  66. 

Domestic  servants  unsurpassed,  6C. 

Donelson,  Andrew  J.,  candidate  for 
Vice-President,  71. 

Douglas,  George,  a  slave,  47. 

Douglas,  Stephen  A.,  71,  116,  118, 
156,  157. 

Dress  of  period,  1856-60,  66,  67. 


Drunkenness  on  Eastern  Shore,  16. 
Dublin  Depot,  Va.,  372,  373,  391. 
Dudley,  Rev.  Jacob  D.,  137, 143, 144. 
Dueling,  the  practice  of,  94-97. 
Dunkards,  the,  226. 
Dunlop,  Mr.  James,  of  Petersburg, 

317,  318. 
Duryee,  Colonel  Abram,  110. 
Dutch  of  New  York,  237. 

Early,    General  Jubal  A.,  227-229, 

315,  395. 
"  East  Lynne,"  the  play,  93. 
Eastern  Shore,  first  settlement  of,  14. 
"  Eat,  drink,  and  be  merry,"  410, 411. 
Echols,  General  John,  294,  296,  298, 

300. 
Edgar's  battalion,  302. 
Ekeekes,  Chief  of  Onancock,  27. 
Eliza,  my  white  nurse,  38, 46,  52,  460. 
Elizabeth  River,  153,  167,  196,  209. 
Elliott,  General,  of  South  Carolina, 

346,  352,  359. 
Elliott's  salient,  346, 352, 353,357, 359, 

360. 
Emancipation,     many     Southerners 

working  for,  113. 
Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo,  134. 
England,  home  of  our  people,  23. 
English  ancestors  the  best,  24-26. 
"Enquirer,"  Richmond,  80,  90. 
Episcopalians,  16. 
Equipages,  handsome,  in  Richmond, 

67. 
Ericsson,    steamer,    Seventh     New 

York  Regiment  on,  105. 
Evacuation  of  Richmond  and  Peters- 
burg, first  news  of,  412-416. 
Evans  family,  17. 

Evans,  Cadet,  color-bearer,  298,  302. 
Ewell,  General  R.  S.,  330,  332,  427, 

428. 
"  Examiner,"  Richmond,  171,  177. 

Falls  of  the  James,  14. 

Fanatics,  what  they  are,  49. 

Farmville,  426-436. 

Father  Ritchie,  90. 

Faulkner,  Charles  J.,  cadet  and  sen- 
ator, 273,  275,  301. 

Field,  General,  330.  ' 

Fighting  among  Richmond  boys,  58. 

Fighting  ground,  V.  M.  I.,  253. 

"  Fighting  in  the  Union,"  158. 

Fighting  prevalent  on  Eastern  Shore, 
16. 

Fillmore,  President  Millard,  71. 

Finney  family,  29. 

First  lessons,  48. 

First  love,  48. 


468 


INDEX 


First  settlement  of  Eastern  Shore,  14. 

First  Virginia  Regiment,  106-112, 
120.  124. 

Fiske',  John,  239. 

Fitchett  family,  17. 

Five  Forks,  412. 

Flanner,  Captain,  360. 

Flat  Creek,  425. 

Fleet,  Captain  A.  F.,  318. 

Fleming  family  of  West  View,  139. 

Flower  de  Hundred,  14. 

Floyd  County,  deserter-hunting  in, 
385-391. 

Floyd,  General  John  B.,  170,  171. 

Forrest,  Commodore,  194,  195. 

Fort  Calhoun,  167,  196. 

Fort  Norfolk,  162. 

Fort  Sumter,  159,  160. 

Fort  Wool,  167,  196. 

Fortress  Monroe,  11,  167,  197,  209. 

Foster,  General,  182,  185-187. 

Fourth  of  July,  105. 

Fowle,  Mrs.,  of  Alexandria,  69. 

Franklin  County,  212. 

Franklin  Street,  Richmond,  67. 

Frederick  the  Great,  sword  of,  129. 

Freesoilers  of  Kansas,  115. 

Fremont,  John  C,  72. 

Fry,  Major,  188. 

Furniture,  sumptuous  among  South- 
erners, 66. 

Gaits  of  Albemarle,  The,  139. 

Game  on  Eastern  Shore,  14. 

Games  and  sports  of  eastern  shore- 
man, 16. 

Garnett,  Dr.  A.  Y.  P.,  3,  166,  415, 
460. 

Garrison,  William  Lloyd,  134. 

Garrett,  Cadet,  301. 

Gauley  River,  170. 

Gayety  under  desperate  conditions, 
396. 

Genesee  valley,  138. 

German  population  of  Virginia,  236. 

German  prisoners,  291. 

Germantown,  the  ship,  160. 

Gettysburg,  272,  329. 

Gibbons,  General,  324. 

Gibbs,  Hampton,  360. 

Gibson,  Colonel  J.  T.,  119. 

Gilham,  Colonel  William,  102,  103, 
261. 

Gillett  family,  17. 

Glade  Spring,  Va.,  373. 

Glen  Cove,  the  steamer,  107. 

Gloria  landing,  Rio  de  Janeiro,  2. 

Gofflgon  family,  17,  29. 

Goldsbrough,  Commodore,  182. 

Goochland  County,  137,  212. 


Goochland  Troop,  146,  147. 
Goode,  Colonel  J.  Thomas,  346,  359. 
Gordon,  General  John  B.,  320,  339. 
Gosport   Navy  Yard,  160,  172,  195, 

209. 
Gouverneur,  Samuel  L.,  and  family, 

105. 
Governor's  election,  1855,  55. 
Government  House,  Richmond,  57. 
Gracie,  General  Archibald,  358. 
Graham  family,  239. 
Granger  craze,  54. 
Grant,  General  U.  S.,  239,  285,  291, 

302,  308,  319,  326,  353,  354,  365,  427. 
Gravesend,  England,  first  of  family 

sailed  from,  28. 
Grays,  Richmond,  110. 
Great  Eastern,  154. 
Greeley,  Horace,  134. 
Green,  Colonel,  188. 
Greenback  craze,  54. 
Green  Bay,  419. 

Greene,  Lieutenant  S.  Dana,  204. 
Greensboro,  N.  C,  448. 
Guard  of  the  Metropolis,  the,  59. 
Guiteau,  Charles,  131. 
Gulf  Stream,  14. 

Halifax  Court  House,  442,  448,  457. 
Halleck,  General  H.  W.,  1-9. 
Hammond's  Landing,  185. 
Hampton,  Va.,  11,  197. 
Hampton,  General   Wade,  328,  330, 

332. 
Hampton  Roads,  11,  154,  167,  196. 
Hancock,  General  W.  S.,  354. 
Hanna,  Cadet  Lieutenant,  302. 
"  Happy   Land    of    Canaan,    The," 

song,  136,  168. 
Hardee,  General  W.  J.,  175. 
Harper's  Ferry,  118,  135. 
Harrisons  of  Ampthill,  139. 
Harrisons  of  Clifton,  139. 
Harrisons  of  Elk  Hill,  139, 147,  148. 
Harrison,  President  Benjamin,  239. 
Harrison,  Burton,  215,  401,  444,  445. 
Harrison,  Captain  Julien,  147,  148. 
Harrison,  Dr.  Randolph,  69. 
Harrisonburg,  Va.,  291,  308. 
Harvie,  Captain  Edwin,  449. 
Haskell,  Captain  John  C,  340,  360.  # 
Hatch,   Hon.   W.   H.,   of  Missouri, 

409. 
Hatteras  Inlet,  175. 
Hawkins,  Colonel  Bush,  189. 
Haxall,  Dr.  Robert  W.,  70. 
Haxall,  Miss  Lucy,  69. 
Heath,  Boscoe  B.,  70. 
Henrico  Light  Dragoons,  106. 
Henricopolis,  14. 


INDEX 


469 


Henry,  Judge  James,  27. 

Henry,  Mary,  27. 

Henry,  Patrick,  99,  100,  238. 

Henry,  a  slave  of  Colonel  Preston, 

375-378. 
"Herald,"  New  York,  on  the  John 

Brown  verdict,  130. 
Heth,  General  Harry,  328-330. 
High  Bridge,  Va.,  425,  428,  435.  _ 
Hill,    Captain    A.    Govan,    tactical 

officer  of  cadets,  299. 
Hill,  General  A.  P.,  326,  327,  301- 

361. 
Hobsons  of  Eastwood,  139. 
Hohsons  of  Howard's  Neck,  139. 
Hobsons  of  Snowden,  139. 
Hog-killing  time,  joys  of,  144,  145. 
Hoke,  General,  330,  354. 
Hollywood  Cemetery,  107,  189. 
Hopkins,  Captain  Stephen,  30,  48. 
Hospitals  in  Richmond,  394. 
Hotels,  in  South,  why  worthless,  65. 
Houston  family,  239. 
Howardsville,  Va.,  137. 
Howell,  the  Misses,  of  the  "White 

House  set,"  403. 
Hubards  of  Buckingham,  139. 
Huger,  General  Benjamin,  175-180. 
Hungers  Creek,  18. 
Hunter,   General    David,   his    raid, 

310. 

Ignorance  in  the  South,  false  ideas 

about,  63,  64. 
Ildefonso,  Dr.  6,  7. 
Indians,  10,  11,  14. 
Irish,  the  hostility  of  Know-Nothings 

to,  53.  _ 
Irish  terriers,  44. 
Italian  skies  on  Eastern  Shore,  22. 
"It  clamor  et  agmine  facto,"  439- 

441. 

Jackson,  Andrew,  239. 

Jackson  family,  239. 

Jackson,  General  "Mud wall,"  379. 

Jackson,   "Stonewall,"  58,  61,  102, 

103,    169,   238,   240,   261,   268-270, 

330,  331,  356. 
James  I.,  King,  11,  13. 
James  II.,  King,  236. 
James  River,  11,  63,  137,  196. 
James  River  valley,  137,  140. 
James  River  and  Kanawha  Canal, 

138. 
Jamestown,  13,  14. 
Jamestown,   the  steamer,  106,   199, 

205. 
"  James  River  low  grounds,"  137- 

140. 


Jefferson,  Cadet,  killed,  302. 
Jefferson,  Thomas,  54,  99,  100. 
Jetersville,  Va.,  416,  417. 
Jim,  the  butler,  122,  208,  210. 
"John   Brown's   Body,"   the  song, 

136. 
"Johnny  comes  Marching  Home," 

the  song,  440. 
Johnson,    Captain,   and  his   coolies, 

192. 
Johnson,  General  Bushrod,  346,  354, 

358,  361,434. 
Johnson,  "  Monkey,"  30. 
Johnston,   General  Joseph  E.,   169, 

170,  176,  215,  449-453. 
Johnston,  Mrs.  Joseph  E.,  449. 
Johnston's  army,  448,  453-457. 
Jones,   Lieutenant   Catesby,   of  the 

Virginia,  195,  202,  204. 
Jones,  Cadet,  killed,  302. 
Jordan,  Colonel,  of  North  Carolina, 

182,  183. 
Joynes  family,  17,  29,  31. 

Kanawha  valley,  170. 

Kansas,  troubles  in,  115. 

Kemper,    General    James    L.,    323, 

328,  329. 
Kennard  family,  17,  29. 
"  Kentucky  gentleman  would  never 

take  away  a  bottle,"  453. 
Kentucky  thoroughbreds,  67. 
Kickotan,  11. 

Kictopeke,  Indian  chief,  10. 
King,    Vice-President    William    R., 

48.  _ 
Kinship  on  Eastern  Shore,  16. 
Kite-flying,  political,  55. 
Knights  of  the  Golden  Horseshoe, 

235. 
Know-Nothing  campaign,  53-57. 
Knox,  General  Henry,  238. 

Lacy's  Springs,  285. 

Lafayette  College,  Easton,  Pa.,  238. 

Lambert,  Rev.  Mr.,  8. 

Lambert's  Point,  164,  167,  196,  209. 

Lampkin,  Captain,  360. 

Laughing  King  of  Accawmacke,  The, 
10,  11,  15. 

Laurel  Brigade,  285. 

Leatherbury  family,  17. 

Ledlie,  Major-General,  354,  356. 

Lee,  General  Custis,  427,  428. 

Lee,  General  Fitzhugh,  328,  330,  333, 
337,  425,  426,  438. 

Lee,  General  Robert  E.,  6,  104,  132, 
133,  170,  177,  193,  215,  228,  288, 
302,  308,  326,  328,  330,  331,  340, 
345,  359,  361,  393,  428,  436. 


470 


INDEX 


Lee,  General  W.   H.   F.,  328,   330, 

333,  425. 
Lee,  Light  Horse  Harry,  334. 
Lee  family,  10,  09. 
Lee's  army,  59,  101,  200,  297,  330. 
Legare,  Sidney,  92. 
Lewis,  Andrew,  98. 
Lewis,  John,  238. 
Lexington,  Va.,   100,  231,  233,   234, 

310. 
Liberty  Hall  Academy,  238. 
Libraries,  private,  in  Virginia,  04. 
Lincoln,  Abraham,  75,  116,  118,  131, 

134,  144,  157-160,  454. 
Lincoln,    news  of    assassination   of, 

454,  455. 
Littleton  family,  17. 
Logan,  Governor,   of  Pennsylvania, 

236. 
Logans  of  Dungeness,  139,  279,  283. 
Lomax,  Colonel,  161. 
Lomonizoff ,  Baron,  6. 
Long,  General,  339. 
Longfellow,  H.  W.,  134. 
Longstreet,  General  James,  327. 
Louis  Napoleon,  92. 
Luray  Gap,  295. 
Lynch,  Commander,  182. 
Lynchburg,  Va.,  137,  313,  416. 
Lynnhaven  Bay,  167. 
Lyons,  Mary  Power,  69. 
Lyons,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  James,  69,  70, 

75. 

McCabe,  Captain  W.  Gordon,  354. 
McCausland,  General  John,  208,  310. 
McClellan,  General  George  B.,  170, 

171,  177,  214. 
McClnngs,  The,  239. 
McDowell,  Cadet,  killed,  306. 
McDowells,  The,  239. 
McFarland,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  69,  70. 
McKinlev,  President  William,  239. 
McLaughlin,  Major,  290,  300. 
McLaughlins,  The,  239. 
Mahone,  General  William,  268,  319- 

327,  330,  301,  372,  428. 
Mahone's  brigade,  304. 
Male  attire  in  1856-60,  66. 
Mallory,  Colonel  Francis,  322. 
Mallory,    Hon.    Stephen,   Secretary 

of  the  Navy,  402,  445. 
Malvern  Hill,  214. 
Manassas,  162,  168,  178. 
Manchester,  Va.,  457. 
Marshall,  Chief  Justice  John,  99. 
Marshall,  Colonel  Charles,  342,  428. 
Marshall,   General  Humphrey,  403, 

404. 
Mary  Aiine,  a  slave,  39. 


Maryland,  State  of,  11,  18.  29,  30, 

119. 
Mason,  George,  99,  334. 
Mason,  Hon.  John  Y.,  92. 
Massachusetts  and  John  Brown,  133. 
Massanutten  Mountains,  295. 
Meade,  General  George  G.,  353,  356, 

358,  360,  403. 
Mechanicsville,  Va.,  214. 
Mecklenburg  Resolutions,  238. 
Meherrin,  Va.,  417,  419,  422. 
Merrimac,   the   ship,   160,   172,   191, 

193,  200,  209,  212. 
Merrimac  and  Monitor,  191-205. 
Merritt,  Cadet,  wounded,  299. 
Methodists,  16. 

Mexican  War,  2,  4,  6,  30,  31,  268. 
Michaux,    of  Michaux's  Ferry,  the, 

139. 
Milford  Station,  308. 
Minnegerode,  Rev.  Charles,  70. 
Minnesota,  the  ship,  198,  201. 
Minor,  Lieutenant  R.  D.,  195,  201, 

202. 
Mobile,  Ala.,  161. 
Mohawk  valley,  138. 
Monacon  country,  235. 
Monitor,  appearance  of,  202,  205. 
Monroe,  President,  104,  112,  199. 
Montgomery,  Ala.,  161. 
Montgomery  Guard,  110. 
Moores  of  Rockbridge,  239. 
Morson  family,  69. 
Morsons  of  Dover,  the,  139,  143. 
Moseley  family,  152. 
Mott,  General,  324. 
Mount  Airy,  304. 
Mount  Custis,  29. 
Mount  Jackson,  302. 
Mount  Prospect,  29. 
Mules  used  for  equipage,  67. 
Munford,  Rev.  William,  69. 
Music,  at  entertainments  in  South, 

68. 
Myers,  Major  William  B.,  402. 

Nag's  Head,  N.  C,  180, 181, 189. 
Nandua  Creek,  Va.,  18,  26. 
Nansemond  River,  Va.,  167,  196. 
Napoleon  III.,  92. 
National    patriotism  in  Virginia  in 

1858,  98. 
"  Navy  Hill  Cats,"  Richmond,  59. 
Navy  Yard  at  Norfolk,  evacuation 

and  burning  of,  162,  164. 
Negro  troops,  first  encounter  with, 

366 ;  enlisted  by  Confederacy,  394, 

395. 
Nelson,  Captain,  of  the  Phoenix,  10. 
Nelson,  General  Thomas,  99. 


INDEX 


471 


New  Hampshire,  237. 

Newman,   Isaac,   sharpshooter,    349, 

350. 
Newmarket,  Va.,  battle  at,  294. 
Newport,  Captain,  235. 
Newport  News,  197. 
New  York,  10,  14,  17,  105-112. 
New  York  Marine  Artillery,  182. 
New  York  regiments,  105,  107,  182, 

199. 
Norfolk,  Va.,  17,  40,  152,  154,  157, 

160,   161,   167,    169,  175,  195,   206, 

209,  211,  365. 
Northampton    County,    Va.,     when 

formed,  15. 
North  Carolina,  coast  of,  175,  206. 
North  Carolina  regiments,  186. 
Norwood,  Colonel,  18. 
Nottingham  family,  17,  29,  30. 

Occahannoek  Creek,  18. 

Oceanic,  the  steamer,  154. 

Ochiltree,  Colonel  Thomas  P.,  402, 
403. 

"  Old  Bald,"  Colonel  J.  T.  L.  Pres- 
ton, 261. 

Old  Dominion,  17. 

"Old  GUI,"  Colonel  William  Gil- 
ham,  261. 

"  Old  Jack,"  Stonewall  Jackson,  261. 

Old  Plantation  Creek,  Va.,  18. 

"  Old  Polly,"  General  R.  E.  Colston, 
261. 

"  Old  Spex,"  General  F.  H.  Smith, 
245,  261. 

"Old  Tom,"  Colonel  T.  H.  William- 
son, 261. 

Oliver,  Captain,  154. 

Onancock  Creek,  18,  27,  48. 

"  Only,"  my  father's  home,  27,  28. 

Ord,  General,  354. 

"  Oregon  Hill  Cats,"  Richmond,  59. 

Organ  Mountains,  2. 

Ould,  Major  Robert,  409. 

"  Our  American  Cousin,"  first  seen, 
66. 

Page,  Major  Legh  R.,  409. 

Page  family,  69. 

Palmer,  Rev.  Dr.,  of  New   Orleans, 

145. 
Panic,  creating  a,  426,  427. 
Parke,  General,  182,  187,  188. 
Parker,  Lieutenant-Commander,  20'0. 
Parker,  Captain  W.  W.,  of  Parker's 

Battery,  340. 
Parker  family,  17. 
Parramore  family,  17. 
Pate,   Henry  Clay,  captured  by  John 

Brown,  126. 


Patton,  George,  300. 
Patton's  brigade,  298. 
Paul,  Colonel  Samuel,  361. 
Paulding,  Commodore,  161. 
Paxton,  General,  burial  of,  267. 
Paxtons,  the,  239. 
Pegram,  General  John,  69. 
Pegram,  Colonel  William  J.,  59,  340. 
Pendergast,  Lieutenant,  200. 
Penn  heiresses,  69. 
Pennsylvania,  the  ship,  160. 
Percival,  Captain,  U.  S.  N.,  211. 
Periodicals,  64. 
Peterkin,  Rev.  Joshua,  70. 
Petersburg,  206,  297,  315,  317 ;  mine 

at,  351,  352  ;  evacuation  of,  412-416. 
Philadelphia,  10,  17,  33,  34,  46,  78. 
Phillips,  Wendell,  134. 
Pickett,  General  George  E.,  69,  330, 

338,  339. 
Pickett's  division,  329,  428. 
Piedmont,  Va.,  63. 
Pierce,  President  Franklin,  48,  49,  89, 

239. 
Pig  Point  Battery,  167. 
Pimlico  Sound ,  175. 
Pitts  family,  17. 
Pizzini,  Cadet,  302. 
Pleasants,    Colonel    Henry,    mining 

engineer,  353. 
Pocomoke  River,  11,  18. 
Pomegranates  on  Eastern  Shore,  4. 
Pontoon  bridge  across  river  at  Rich- 
mond, 457. 
Poore,  Ben  :  Perley,  211. 
Porter,  Midshipman,  186. 
Portsmouth,_Va.,  209. 
Pottawatomie  massacre,  126. 
Poulson  family,  17,  30. 
Powhatan,  11,  13. 
Prentice,  Clarence,  403. 
Presbyterians,  15. 
Preston  family,  219,  239. 
Preston,  Captain  Frank,  293. 
Preston,  Colonel  J.  T.  L.,  261. 
Preston,  Colonel  Robert  T.,  372,  391. 
Preston,   Captain.  Samuel,   360,  367, 

368. 
Price,  Professor  Thomas  R.,  69. 
Prices  of  commodities,  1864-65,  392. 
Prince  of  Wales,  visit  of,  155,  156. 
Princess  Anne  County,  158. 
Public  Guard  of  Virginia,  59,  74, 106. 
Public  schools  in  South,  why  none, 

64. 
Public  spirit  lacking,  65. 
Puritan  blood,  34. 

Raleigh,  the,  196,  201. 
Randolph,  Hon.  George  W.,  70. 


472 


INDEX 


Randolph,  John,  his  home,  441,  442. 

Rappahannock  River,  11. 

Raritan,  the  ship,  160. 

Reagan,  Postmaster-General  J.  H., 
402,  445. 

Reams's  Station,  328. 

Rebel  Will  and  Testament,  461, 
462. 

Redwood,  Cadet,  297. 

Reed,  Cadet,  wounded,  299. 

Reeve,  Major  John,  455,  456. 

Reno,  General,  182,  187,  188. 

Reveille,  254-256. 

Rhodes,  General,  268. 

Richmond,  Va.,  13,  38,  39,  43,  57,  63, 
71,  118,  137,  212,  309,  310,  315,  328, 
392,  393,  396,  457  ;  news  of  evacua- 
tion of,  412-416. 

Richmond  "Enquirer,"  80,  90. 

Richmond  Light  Infantry  Blues,  110, 
166,  170,  186,  188. 

Rio  de  Janeiro,  1,  2,  191. 

Rip-raps,  167,  196. 

Ritchie,  Thomas,  90. 

Roanoke  County,  236. 

Roanoke  Island,  173,  190,  206. 

Roanoke,  the  ship,  198,  201. 

Robertson,  General,  of  Tennessee, 
379. 

Robins,  Colonel  Obedience,  15. 

Robins  family,  17. 

Robinson,  Colonel  Tully,  27. 

Robinson,  Scarburgh,  27. 

Rockbride-e  County,  233,  236. 

Rocky  Mount,  212,  219,  223-227. 

Rocky  Ridge  Rifles,  106. 

Rolleston,  152,  157,  207,  209,  211. 

Roman,  Colonel,  318. 

Ross  family,  239. 

Rosser's  brigade,  285. 

Rough  and  Ready,  30. 

Rude's  Hill,  303. 

Rutherford,  Miss  Emily  and  family, 
397,  ff. 

Rutherfords  of  Rock  Castle,  139. 

Sailors'^  Creek,  427,  428. 
Salt-boilers,  in  Accomack,  13. 
Saltville,  Va.,  373-391.  _ 
Saunders's  Alabama  brigade,  366. 
Savage  family,  29. 
Scarburgh  family,  17. 
Scarburgh,  Captain  Edmund,  15,  26. 
Scarburgh,  Colonel  Edmund,  17. 
Scarburgh,  Sir  Charles,  17. 
Scarburgh,  Hannah,  26. 
Schofield,  General,  210. 
School  system,  why  there  was  none 

in  the  South,  64. 
Schools,  47,  48,  57,  70,  137,  140-166. 


Scotch-Irish  Presbyterians,  235-243, 

293. 
Scott,  Dame,  of  Fauquier,  69. 
Scott,  General  Winfield,  102-104. 
Secession,  48,  135,  157. 
Seddon,  Mrs.,  of  Goochland,  69. 
Seddons  of  Sabot  Hill,  139. 
Selden,     Lieutenant     William    B., 

killed,  186. 
Seldens  of  Orapax  and  Norwood,  139. 
Selma,  Ala.,  161. 
Semmes,  Colonel  Thomas  M.,  258. 
Sergeant,  Hon.  John,  33. 
Servants,  domestic,  in  the  South,  66. 
Seven  Days'  Battles,  214. 
Seven  Pines,  212. 
Seward,  William   H.,   75,   116,   134, 

144. 
Sewell's  Mountain,  170. 
Sewell's  Point,  19(5,  209. 
Shaw,  Colonel,   of  North  Carolina, 

182. 
Shenandoah  valley,  58,  233,  235,  288, 

310. 
Sheridan,  General  Philip,  354. 
Sherman,  General  W.  T.,  1,  9,  450. 
Shinplasters,  215. 
Shipp,  Colonel  Scott,  246,  292,  298, 

302,  314. 
"Shockoe  Hill  Cats,"  Richmond,  59. 
Shot-making,  Confederate,  276. 
Shriver,   Cadet,   265-267  ;  wounded, 

302. 
Sigel,  General  Franz,  291. 
Silver  craze,  54. 
Simpkins  family,  17. 
Sisson's  Kingdom,  385-390. 
Skipwiths,  the,  139. 
Slave-owner,  referred  to  as,  47. 
Slave  sale,  80. 
Slave  trade,  4. 

Slavery,  34,  36,  48,64,  80,  148,  151. 
"Slavery,   The   Divine  Origin  of," 

145. 
Slaves,  scenes  with,  47,  52,  74,  119, 

153,  318,  375,  433,  458  ;   attitude  of 

the   North    toward   escaped,    113, 

114. 
Slidell,  Senator,  115. 
Smith  family,  17,  29. 
Smith,  General  "  Baldy,"  315. 
Smith,  Commander,  200. 
Smith,  General  F.  H.,  100,  244,  315. 
Smith,   John,  10  ;   his  map  of  Vir- 
ginia, 12. 
Smithfield,  Va.,  14. 
Smith's  Island,  10. 
Snead  family,  29. 
Solomon,  a  slave,  47. 
Somersetshire,  26. 


INDEX 


473 


Sothern,  Ned,  66. 

South  Carolina,  145,  157. 

South  Side,  Va.,  63. 

Southern  flags  first  seen,  157-160. 

Southern  ignorance,  falsehoods  con- 
cerning, 63,  64. 

Southside  Railroad,  328,  416. 

Spartan  Band  of  Richmond,  58. 

Speculation  in  Confederacy,  216-218. 

Spotswood,  Governor,  235. 

Spottsylvania  Court  House,  308. 

Sprague,  Cadet,  257. 

Stanard,  Cadet,  297,  307. 

Stanard,  Judge  and  Mrs.,  69. 

Stanards  of  Bendover,  139. 

Stars  and  Stripes,  3,  9,  50,  160. 

Staunton,  Va.,  287,  289,  308. 

Staunton  River  bridge,  328. 

Stevenson,  Major-General  Carter, 
448. 

Stingaree,  12. 

Stingaree  Point,  12. 

Strawberry  Hill,  Va.,  214. 

Stuart,  General  J.  E.  B.,  330. 

Sturtevant,  Captain  Nat,  340. 

St.  Lawrence,  the  ship,  198,  201. 

Suffolk,  Va.,  210. 

Sugar  Loaf  Mountain,  Rio  de  Ja- 
neiro, r. 

Suggs  family,  261,  367. 

Sumner,  Charles,  114,  116,  117. 

Sumner,  Colonel,  U.  S.  A.,  126. 

Surry  County,  Va.,  12. 

Sussex  County,  Va.,  12. 

Sutherlin,  Major,  of  Danville,  444. 

Tabb,  Colonel  William  B.,  397. 

Taliaferro,  General  William  B.,  161. 

Tanner's  Creek,  164. 

Tayloes,  the,  219-221. 

Taylor,  Colonel  W.  H.,  342. 

Tazewell,  Littleton,  68. 

Teniers  paintings,  stolen  from  Rol- 
leston,  208-211. 

Terrapin  on  Eastern  Shore  of  Vir- 
ginia, 14. 

Thayer,  Colonel,  Founder  of  West 
Point  Academy,  246. 

Theatre  at  Richmond,  93. 

Thompson,  John  R.,  69. 

Tidewater,  Va.,  63. 

Tidewater  Virginians,  365. 

Tinsley,  Peter,  220. 

Tompkins,  Captain  Sally,  394. 

Topsy,  76,  77. 

Traveler,  General  Lee's  horse,  343. 

Trevillian,  Colonel  John  M.,  139. 

Trimble,  Colonel,  killed,  383. 

Troop  ships,  United  States,  1. 

Tucker,  Commander,  199. 


Turkeys  on  Smith's  map  of  Virginia, 

12. 
Turner,  Nat,  leader  of  insurrection, 

74. 
Tyler,  President  John,  159. 

"  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  the  play  seen, 

76. 
Uniform  of  Confederates,  suggested 

by  Seventh  N.  Y.  Regiment,  111. 
Union  officers,  bearing  of,  towards 

Confederates,  457. 
Upshur  family,  17,  29. 
Upshur's  Neck,  29. 

Vassas,  Mile.,  70. 

Venable,    Colonel    Charles  S.,   342, 

360,  361. 
"  Village  Blacksmith,"    Herring's, 

208-210. 
Virginia  capes,  10,  14. 
Virginia  dismembered,  462. 
Virginia  Military  Institute,  100,  231, 

234,  244-275  ;  burning  of,  312. 
Virginia  regiments,  186. 
Virginia  settlers,  various  types    of, 

232,  233. 
Virginia  thoroughbreds,  67. 
Virginia's  position  in  the  Union  in 

1856-60,  61-63. 
Viva  voce  voting,   how  conducted, 

55. 
Von  Boerck,  Baron  Heros,  402,  405. 

Wade,  Senator  Benjamin,  115-117. 
Walker,  General  H.  H.,  412. 
Walker,  General  Lindsay,  214,  268. 
Waples  family,  29. 
Ward  family,  17. 
Warren,  General,  354,  362. 
Warwick,     Lieutenant     Barksdale, 

318,  398. 
Warwick,  Bradfute,  69. 
Warwick  family,  139. 
Washington,  General  George,  50,  54, 

98,  138,  238,  286,  287. 
Washington,  Colonel  Lewis,  128. 
Washington  and  Jefferson  College, 

238,  314. 
Washington  and  Lee  University,  238. 
Washington     statue,    unveiling    of, 

98. 
Watch  crystals,  speculation  in,  217. 
Watts  family,  219. 
Wedding,  a  Confederate,  397. 
Weisi^er,  General,  362. 
West  Augusta,  236,  238. 
West  family,  17. 

West,  Lieutenant-Colonel  John,  27. 
West,  Matilda,  27. 


474 


INDEX 


West  Point,  1,   3,  59,  100,  129,  175, 

176,  234,  246. 
Wharton,  General  "  Gabe,"  293,  296. 
Wheelwright,  Cadet,  killed,  302. 
'•White  House  set,"  403. 
White  Sulphur  Springs,  67,  167. 
Whittier,  John  G.,  134. 
Wide-awake  processions,  403. 
Wigfall,  Miss,  403. 
Wilkins,  Sergeant,  422. 
Will,  a  rebel,  461. 
William  and  Mary  College,  89,  165, 

236. 
Williamsburg,  Va.,  26. 
Williamson,  Captain,  U.  S.  N.,  172, 

192. 
Williamson,    Colonel     Thomas    H., 

261. 
Willoughby's  Spit,  196,  209. 
Wilson,  General  James  H.,  328,  333, 

337. 
Wise  family,  17,  23,  26. 


Wise,  Captain  George  D.,  322,  327. 
Wise,  Governor    Henry  A.,  3-9,  27, 

31,  38,  48-50,  53,  58,  79,  108,  119, 

132,   157,   160,   165,    170,  191,  195, 

206,    211,   297,   315,  346,  366,   394, 

427,  438. 
Wise,  Rev.  Henry  A.,  165,  220,  442. 
Wise,  Captain  Henry  A.,    Jr.,  260, 

261,  302. 
Wise,    Louis,    G.  H.  F.,   244,  276, 

305. 
Wise,  Cadet  L.  W.,  261. 
Wise,   Captain  O.  Jennings,   69,   79, 

89,  166,  173,  184,  186,  188,  189. 
Wise,  Hon.  Richard  A.,  47,  48,  91, 

180,  195,  196,  207,  318,  431,  448. 

Yeardley  family,  17. 

Yerby  family,  29. 

Young,  Brigham,  146. 

Young  Guard  Battalion,  106,  111. 

Young,  John  B.,  70. 


ELECTROTYPED  AND  PRINTED 
BY  H.   O.    HOUGHTON   AND   CO. 

CAMBRIDGE,  MASS.,  U.  S.  A. 


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